


Retaliation

by hellogayimdad



Series: Locke & Load [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I'll tag this as I go along I guess, I'm doing the best i can, Longing, Lots of that, M/M, Multi, Other, Techincally this is the second book of my series?, Wistful, but I'm farther along in this one than the first so?, go figure, hating the Director, so the Director is his dickhead dad, sort of freeform?, this particular AU(?) has Simmons as Carolina's younger half-brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29649315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellogayimdad/pseuds/hellogayimdad
Summary: Twelve years had passed since the fall of Project Freelancer. Twelve years since the M.O.I. had crashed. Twelve years since Agent Michigan had lost pretty much everything.After it was obvious that she had nothing left beside herself and her AI, Tau, Mich returned to Earth to find her almost-brother, Richard Simmons, and they dwelled together for many rough years afterwards. When Simmons enlisted into the military, Mich knew she couldn't let him go by himself, so she went after him. After striking a deal, Mich was put in the same base as Simmons, and there they had plenty of mishaps and adventures.Now, they were stationed at Rat's Nest, where Mich was slowly going crazy due to boredom and restlessness. That soon changes, however, when a familiar face she never thought she would see again came along. Agent Washington, now a recovery agent, wasn't expecting to see Mich when he came to just another sim base to pick up a soldier containing information on AI. But he (somewhat reluctantly) brought her along, knowing she as well knew about Project Freelancer and the AI that came from it. He soon begins to regret it, however, when he again has to deal with the ruckus and idiocy that came along with being around her.
Relationships: (eventually), (implied/suggested), (past relationship), Agent Maine | The Meta/Original Character, Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue) & Original Character(s), Agent Washington/Original Male Character, Lavernius Tucker & Original Character(s), Lavernius Tucker/Agent Washington, Richard Simmons & Original Character(s), Richard Simmons/Dexter Grif
Series: Locke & Load [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178729
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real RvB fanfic that I am constantly trying to work on. At the moment it is 12:30AM and I don't have time to put up any of the other chapters I have written yet, but I will hopefully be able to do that tomorrow night.

It was strange being at a base that wasn't the Red Base in Blood Gulch. Yes, it was a bit bigger than the one in the desert canyon, and it was in better condition. But everyone here just had the standard red armor. Hardly any variety at all. Just red ODST armor with only different trim colors. That wasn't really enough for Mich to decipher who was who.

She was relieved that she, Grif, and Simmons were able to keep their armor and not have to switch to the boring armor they had around here. She would never have been able to recognize her teammates from the others if they had.

It had been fourteen months since Mich, Grif, and Simmons had been transferred from Blood Gulch to Rat's Nest. Their commanding officer, Sarge, had stayed behind with their robot, Lopez, to guard their base in the canyon, ultimately going AWOL, since he had been ordered to be transferred with the rest of the team, but refused. He was too obsessed with destroying the Blues on the otherside of the canyon, even though the only one left was Kai, Grif's sister. Mich couldn't understand the logic behind Sarge feeling the need to guard their base from her--Kai was pretty harmless. But then again, Mich never understood Sarge's logic for anything, so it's not like it was different from any other time.

The past year had been probably the most boring year of her life. It was much like the time Mich had been in Blood Gulch, but five times worse. The most she ever did was clean out the guns they hardly ever used--at least in Blood Gulch, she had been able to _use_ the guns and have a bit of fun.

When she wasn't cleaning guns, Mich was usually sneaking into Blue Base and visiting Caboose. It was a lot more difficult than before--the Blues here didn't understand that she and Caboose were friends, or that visiting each other was common at their last outposts. She had to slip into the base without being spotted, which was relatively easy, but she was always chased out with guns blazing behind her once they discovered her. This usually happened about three times a day. Miraculously, she hardly ever got hit--or maybe the Blues were just as horrible with all their guns like Church was with his sniper rifle. Either way, Mich had only earned a few grazes and one real wound, which the Blues had loudly celebrated and Simmons had loudly panicked about. But still--it was a lot better than what she had experienced before, and she was happy to escape with so little injuries.

Mich was currently sneaking into Blue Base for the second time today, carrying a small paper bag full of the cookies she had told Caboose she would make for him. Unfortunately, they were a bit on the drier side, but at least she hadn't exploded the oven with them like the last time, so she considered this a victory. 

Recently, the Blues had been tying up Caboose in their basement--or "brig", as they called it--so that he would stop killing his teammates and destroying their vehicles. It was understandable, since Mich had observed that it happened all the time, but that didn't mean she didn't like it. 

The two Blue guards on top of the base were circling the top barricades together, which Mich was somewhat puzzled about, but they always did this and she was used to it. She just waited until they were on the opposite side of the barricades than the door and she made her way inside. The three other Blues inside were arguing about the pronunciation of one of the privates' name ("It's not _Johannes_ , it's _Jones_!") and they all had their backs turned to her, so Mich walked right in and went down to the brig as if she was walking into her own base. 

Upon walking inside, Caboose, who was currently tied to a chair with his pistol on the floor beside him, jumped up, promptly making the wooden chair crack and splinter.

"Miss Michigan! I am very glad to see you," Caboose greeted brightly. 

"I'm glad to see you too, Caboose," Mich smiled, heading over to him and untying the simple knot that connected Caboose to the chair. _These Blues need to work on their knot-tying skills._

Caboose wrapped Mich in an extremely tight hug, lifting her up off her feet in the process. Mich laughed--well, it came out closer to a wheeze than a laugh--and staggered slightly when he set her back down.

"Did you get the cookies you promised?" Caboose asked.

"I did my best with them," Mich shrugged, raising up the paper bag. Caboose took it eagerly, opening it up and letting out a noise of excitement upon seeing the cookies. He took off his helmet, then sat down cross-legged on the floor. Mich joined him, taking her helmet off as well. Caboose set his helmet down and began eating the cookies.

"These are a lot better than the last ones," Caboose smiled. "They don't taste like the burnt spots you sometimes get on toast."

"I'm glad they don't," Mich smiled.

 _"They taste a lot better when you follow the instructions,"_ Tau pointed out, appearing on the floor in between Caboose and Mich, his little figure sitting cross-legged as well.

"I didn't think it took so quickly for cookies to bake, okay? And I forgot about them last time."

_"Which resulted in the entire oven exploding, somehow, and the kitchen catching on fire, as well as Grif's stash of doughnuts becoming charred and completely inedible."_

"He wasn't too happy about that, was he?" Mich snickered a little, in spite of herself. "I still need to repay him for tha--"

 _"Someone's coming,"_ Tau interrupted, quickly disappearing from view. Mich grabbed her helmet and clicked it back into place as one of the Blues walked in.

"Hey rookie, you're wanted outside with-- _oh,_ not you again--" the blue soldier groaned upon seeing Mich, just as a gunshot ran out. The Blue fell to the floor with a yell and Caboose walked past him and out of the room, Mich quickly following.

" _Oh-ho, WHY?_ " the poor guy shrieked, as Mich stepped over his body.

"Be careful!" Caboose chirped. Mich sighed, then hurried down the stairs after Caboose.

In the middle of the main room of the base was the leader of the Blues--Mich had no idea what their name was--and someone else wearing a suit of armor that Mich had never thought she would see ever again.

" _Wash?_ " she breathed out, as the all-too-familiar gray-and-yellow helmet turned to look at the two approaching soldiers.

"Oh, see, _here_ is that Red who keeps sneaking in here," the Blue leader said, his southern accent rough with annoyance. "I had a feeling she was back in here. Never can trust no one to guard well enough to keep her out."

"You wanted to see me, Principal Miller?" Caboose asked the commanding officer.

"Where's the guy I sent to get you?" Miller inquired.

"Oh, uh, him, yeah... um he told me to come out here and somehow shot himself in the chest somehow. Uh, but we don't think it's anybody's fault. Everybody agrees it was an accident."

"Jesus, would someone go check on him?" Miller called out, and one of the other Blue privates went to do so.

"Caboose, this here is Special Agent Washington from Blue Command. He has something _fantastic_ to talk to you about," Miller told Caboose, and Mich's suspicion was correct--this _was_ Wash, he _was_ alive, he was _right here--_

_Wait. "Command"?_

"Command? Oh, no. They never have good news," Caboose worried. "Did somebody die? Was it my mom? Is she dead? Or my dad, did my dad die again? Oh no--"

"What is this?" Wash asked, turning to Miller. "I, I don't--"

Miller chuckled. "You see? He's yours now. No takebacks."

"Is it my brother? Was my brother killed? That's it, isn't it? My brother is dead!" Caboose shouted.

"Wh--what? No, nothing like that," Wash told him hesitantly.

"Oh, good, because I don't even have a brother! How awful would it be to not have a brother and loose a brother in the same day?"

Wash by now seemed extremely perplexed by Caboose, which was not at all surprising.

"No one died!" Wash finally exclaimed. 

"Johannes is dead, sir," a Blue private said, walking up to the group.

"Okay, no one besides him," Wash amended.

"Once again, nobody's fault," Caboose said. " _Psst_ , I think the new guy did it."

"Caboose, you were stationed at Blood Gulch, correct?" Wash asked.

"Yeah... that was fun," Caboose answered.

"And our records indicate you were infected by an aggressive artificial intelligence program at some point, the Omega AI--is that correct?"

"Yeah, that wasn't as much fun," Caboose admitted.

_Wash being from "Command", Wash asking about the AI... Tau, I think something is up._

_I agree. He has also not acknowledged your presence, which is odd, considering how close you two were back during the project._

Mich was about to answer him when Wash said, "Okay, I need you to come with me."

" _Wash_ , what the hell is going on?" Mich blurted out, and he, Caboose, and Miller all turned to look at her.

"Do you know him?" Miller asked, surprised.

"We'll talk later," Wash said quickly, irritation in his voice.

"Who shoved a stick up your ass?" Mich snorted.

"Why are we shoving sticks up people's butts?" Caboose put in.

"Nobody is shoving sticks up anyone's ass," Wash huffed. "I want the both of you to come with me."

"Good, because we've got a _lot_ of talking to do," Mich muttered.

"Shut up. Now, I'm investigating a critical issue, and you seem to be the only people with the knowledge and experience to help me. And I just realized how ridiculous that sounded once I said it out loud. Nonetheless, I need you to come with me."

_Experience and knowledge on AIs--he could be looking for more than just info._

"Can I have a word with him first, sir?" Miller asked, and Wash responded with "Sure, I guess."

As Miller lead Caboose a little bit away to talk to him, Wash hurried up to Mich and asked, quietly but forcefully, "What the _hell_ are you doing _here_ , at one of these sim bases?"

"I got transferred here along with the rest of my squad," Mich answered coolly, knowing full well that he couldn't possibly know that she had ever been at Blood Gulch. "Except for Sarge, but he, well, stayed behind." 

"I noticed. But how did you end up in a squad of _sim troopers?_ You were never in any of the records!"

"Just because it wasn't in your records doesn't mean it didn't happen," Mich retorted. 

" _Everything_ in that canyon was recorded. How are you _nowhere_ to be seen?" Wash hissed. 

"I made a deal with Florida. I helped with his duties in Blood Gulch, he never put me in the records. No one put me in the records after he died. I was supposed to let Command know that I was there if he died, and I just never did."

Wash was silent for a minute, before saying, "You could get in a hell lot of trouble for that."

"Whose gonna tell on me? You?" Mich snorted.

"Maybe."

Mich glared at him through her visor. "You wouldn't."

"I might, if you don't cooperate and _listen_. I know that might be hard for you, but you will have to if you don't want me giving you away," Wash told her, a bit of a ridicule in his voice.

" _You will have to if you don't want me giving you away_ ," Mich mocked in a high, annoying voice, though she was a bit surprised at the threat to reveal her.

" _Mich_ ," he said in a warning tone she was all-too-familiar with.

"Fine, fine, I'll listen! Just _don't_ hand me over to Command," she said lowly. "I don't think they'd be happy knowing where I've been for the past few years."

"What do you mean by that?" Wash asked suspiciously.

"Ah-ah, that wasn't part of the deal," Mich smirked. "I'm just supposed to _cooperate_ and _listen_. You didn't say anything about me having to tell you where I've been all this time."

Wash was about to saying something else when Miller shouted, "He's all yours!"

"Great," Wash said in a voice that indicated the situation was anything but great. He and Mich walked over to Caboose.

"Let's get going," Wash told them, before heading towards the exit.

"Okay," Caboose said as he fell in step with Mich, with Wash in the front. 

"Are we there yet?" Caboose asked not two seconds into walking. He began asking this repeatedly, before Wash said, "Just--try to be quiet."

Mich smirked a little, before falling into conversation with Tau.

_T, something's not right with Wash._

_Well, we haven't seen him in over a decade. He's bound to have changed since then._

_I haven't changed at all in that time, so that's not exactly a valid argument._

That is very debatable. 

_Fine, maybe I have, but not like he has. You have to see the difference between Wash from Project Freelancer and... this._

_Yes, there is a huge difference._

_Did you notice how that Miller guy called him "Command"? You think he's working for the Director still?_

_That seems to be the only possible explanation, unless he is lying._

_You think he'd lie like that just to get to a sim trooper with information on an AI fragment?_

_Not really, but I am not sure. Wash has changed--who knows what he'll do now._

About an hour after they had left Rat's Nest, Wash asked Mich to come up and walk with him. Mich immediately sensed trouble, but still made her way up to him. Cooperating was the only thing keeping her from getting practically handed over to the Director at the moment, and she figured that she should probably listen to most of the things she was told. 

"Mich, you were given an AI during the project, correct?" Wash asked, and Mich's dread increased.

"Yeah, I did. Tau. The curiosity AI."

"The failure AI."

"Only by the Director's standards," Mich grumbled. Both she and Tau were touchy on the subject of the Director dubbing the AI a "failure".

"Right. Do you still have it?"

Mich glanced at him, then said, "I lost him."

" _Lost_ it? How did you do that?" Wash asked urgently.

"Oh, uh, well... I kind of took his chip out. And it got ran over by the tank, back at Blood Gulch. It got crushed."

Wash stopped walking, but was silent, while Caboose piped up with "Oh yes, that was very sad. Poor Tackle. He was so young! He died too soon!"

"You're telling me. That you had an AI fragment. One of the most expensive pieces of technology you have ever happened upon. You kept it safe and sound for _years_ in regular civilization. But _then_ , you somehow get put in a base with a bunch of _idiots_ , and you were stupid enough to take the chip out and let it get run over by a _tank?!_ "  
As he was speaking, his voice got higher and higher until it hit his high-pitch note of disbelief.

"Yeah, pretty much," Mich nodded. 

Wash seemed pretty disappointed, but said, "Well, I suppose it can't end up in the hands of the enemy if it's crushed, so we're good in that area."

"The 'enemy'? Who is the 'enemy', Wash?" Mich asked, frowning, but Wash didn't answer, to her frustration.

"Let's get going. We've got a long way to go."

He continued walking, and Mich fell back, once again walking beside Caboose.

After a minute or so of silence, Mich suddenly told Tau, _I need to pull you out._

_Pull me out? Like, take out my chip?_

_Yes, T. I'm sorry._

_But Wash believes your story, he doesn't think I'm here, I'm sure of it!_

This was exactly how Mich thought he would react, and she sighed regrettably. 

_He's going to catch us if I don't pull you out, T. You'd be a lot safer out of my head and in hiding. I can't risk him finding out about you and handing us over to the Director. Who_ knows _what he'd do if he got our hands on us._

Tau was silent, and Mich added, _Wash is obviously not the agent we knew, T. We can't risk it._

 _...all right,_ the AI murmured, his fear as obvious as can be. 

_I'll put you back in as soon as I can, okay?_

_Promise?_

_Promise._

_Okay. I'm ready._

Mich reached around, carefully grabbing Tau's chip in the back of her neck.

_I'll miss you, Mich._

_I'll miss you too, buddy._

She then pulled the chip out, staggering a bit at the sudden feeling of Tau and his feelings and thoughts getting torn out of her head. She hadn't ever taken his chip out, not once, even though she had gotten him implanted into her over a decade ago. She wrapped her hand around Tau's chip, a tear streaking down her cheek.

"Are you all right?" she heard a voice above her ask, and she looked up to see the somewhat-blurry figures of Wash and Caboose standing over her. She was unsure who had asked the question.

"Yeah, fine," she muttered, as her mind adjusted and gradually became clearer. "Just, uh... tripped."

"Well, come on, we don't have all day," Wash said, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. Mich blinked repeatedly before her eyesight completely returned. Wash looked at her for a moment, then nodded once, continuing on the path ahead of them.

Caboose quickly followed after him, glancing back at Mich every few seconds. Mich felt around her chest plate until she found the small storage slot. She flipped it open, stuck Tau's chip in, and closed it. She rubbed her thumb over the slot mournfully, then continued after Wash and Caboose. And for the first time in over ten years, she talked to herself within her head, not Tau.

\- - - - - - - -

"And you're sure this is where we can find this guy?" Wash asked Caboose, "this guy" being Church. Caboose had told the gray-armored agent that the former leader of the Blues in Blood Gulch was important because he knew of Project Freelancer, which Wash somewhat doubted, but Caboose was able to convince him to go get Church. Mich had said nothing during this, but she couldn't help but be somewhat amused.

_Yeah, Church is sort of important in the terms of the project._

"I think so," Caboose said. "We all found out our orders at the same time. He tried to hide his from me so I could not find out where he was."

"Really? I can't imagine way," Wash said drily, and Mich rolled her eyes. 

"I said that it was like a game of hide-and-seek, and he said that I was right! He was going to hide from me, and the only way he could win was if he dies without ever seeing me again."

"And he knows about Freelancer as well?" Wash asked again.

"Oh yeah, he knows the most," Caboose nodded. "He knows all about your AI game. Miss Michigan does, too. But Church dated Agent Tex. Miss Michigan didn't. I think."

"Agent Texas? Um, how could a person--"

Wash was interrupted by a gunshot, which made the three jump and turn towards the outpost in front of them.

"Fuck! A sniper! Get down!" Wash shouted, quickly hurrying to hide behind a rock. Mich and Caboose stayed put.

"Okay, that was your one warning shot!" a voice yelled from the base. "The next one is going between your eyes!"

"Private Caboose! Age-- _Michigan_ , get down!" Wash ordered.

"Oh please, this idiot can't shoot," Mich said offhandedly.

"Wait a minute--" Caboose began.

"All right, I warned ya-- _sayonara, bi-otch!_ "

Another shot rang out, but it landed behind Mich and Caboose.

"Oh, come on! What the fuck!"

"Caboose, Mich!"

"I know that voice!" Caboose declared, ignoring Wash. "Church? Church! It's me! Your all-time best friend!"

" _Caboose?_ Caboose, is that you?"

"Yes! Church, it's me! I missed you so much! It's been so long! Did you miss me?"

Several more shots were fired, but they all missed hitting anything.

"Fuck, I missed him!" 

"Yeah, no shit, asswipe!" Mich yelled.

" _Mich?_ "

"The one and only!"

Church fired multiple more bullets, still missing.

"I knew you did!" Caboose said gleefully.

" _Go. Away._ "

"This is your _friend?_ " Wash, who had not moved from behind the rock, asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Caboose affirmed.

"And he's shooting at you?"

"Well, at me and stuff around me. Yeah, it's kinda like our thing. He acts like he doesn't like me, but he really does. Oh, and he might bring up something about me killing him, but that's nothing. It's a joke. You can play along if you want!"

"Wait, that doesn't make any sense. You did _what?_ You _killed_ him?"

"Scram," Church called down, finally appearing up on the barricades. "Seriously. Get the fuck out of here."

"Hey, Church!" Caboose said, walking up closer to the wall, Mich and Wash following.

"This is Agent Washington. He needs to speak to you."

"Agent Wa--you brought a _freelancer_ here? What's _wrong_ with you?!"

"And Miss Michigan, she's here too."

" _Two_ freelancers. That's even better."

"I don't really count as one," Mich pointed out.

"She indeed does not count," Wash agreed. "Open this gate."

"Uh, no can do, bud. See, this is a secure facility. Nobody in, nobody out. Sorry, guess you have to come back... never."

"Oh no, I guess we'll just have to walk through the huge hole in your secure wall," Wash said with heavy sarcasm.

There was a few moments of silence before Church said, "Fine. I'll open the fucking gate."

Church did open the gate, and Wash, Mich, and Caboose walked in. 

"Nice base," Mich nodded as Church came down to join them. "Wide open, empty of all people. That gun thing is really cool, though--is it a laser sort of thing?"

"Stop acting like we're friends," Church snapped. "We're not."

It was obvious that he was still feeling sore about everything that had happened in Blood Gulch, despite the time that had passed.

"How long have you been here?" Wash questioned.

"How long? Um, what day is today?"

"Today is Tuesday," Wash told him.

"I've been here for fourteen months," Church responded.

"What? Over a year?" Wash said, surprised. "By yourself? Alone?"

"I never could've lived through that," Mich shook her head.

"Yeah, um... it's been great. I mean, it's just been great. Real great."

"I don't think I believe you," Mich said.

"Yeah, well, nobody asked you," Church huffed.

"You are really an odd group of people. Hold on," Wash said, turning around and taking a few steps away. Mich was about to give Church a genuinely happy greeting when Wash began speaking to someone, who Mich presumed was on his intercom: "This is Agent Washington. I've found some Blue Team members that have extensive experience with Omega."

"Did he just say Omega?" Church asked. Mich nodded distractedly; she was just happy Wash didn't mention her to whoever he was speaking to.

"Yeah, and some other words too," Caboose said.

"Roger that," Wash nodded, still speaking to the person on his intercom. After a minute, he said "Recovery One, out" and began walking towards the entrance of the base. " Come on, let's move out."

"Move out?" Church echoed. "What point in this conversation did you think we were buddies or something? I'm not going with you. _Either_ of you," he added, sending a presumed glare at Mich, who was still standing beside him and Caboose.

"Yes. You are not in our buddy club," Caboose told Wash.

"Shut up, Caboose, and what did I tell you about that armor when we had to pick new suits?"

"You told me to upgrade."

"That's not an upgrade! This is Mark VI armor, that is Mark V! _This_ is an upgrade!"

"In the top ten list, five is better than six."

" _We're not a top ten list!_ "

"How do you ever get anything done if all you do is argue with each other?" Wash interrupted, sounding a bit exasperated.

"We don't, that's part of our charm! Quit fucking it up!"

"Look, I know you guys are wrapped up in your little Red versus Blue battles--"

"Blue versus Red battles," Caboose corrected. "No one says Red versus Blue. It sounds stupid when you say it backwards."

"--but this is _important. Actual_ military operations. Not your fake simulation stuff. Something is hunting our top agents, and I need all the help I can get to stop it."

" _Stop_ it?" Church repeated. "If something's killing freelancers, I want to start a fan club for it. Build it a website."

Mich's mind was racing. _Something's killing freelancers? Who? Who is dead already?_

"And now that the ship from your canyon is crashed, we think it's more powerful than ever. It gains new abilities every time it kills--"

"Wait wait wait, hold up--you found Tex's ship?" Church asked, suddenly interested.

"We believe so," Wash told him.

"Where?"

"Come with me and I'll show you," Wash replied, again making his way towards the exit. 

"I'm in," Church said, beginning to follow. 

"Yes. This'll be the greatest roadtrip ever!" Caboose exclaimed as he and Mich followed as well.

"If you say anything positive, I will fucking kill all four of us right now," Church threatened.

"Okay. I will be very depressed about how _awesome this will be!_ "

Mich was honestly not too worried about Church killing any of them, but she was definitely concerned about this thing that was hunting down freelancers. She hurried forward to catch up with Wash.

"Wash-- _Wash_." She caught up to him, glancing up at the blank yellow visor. He didn't look at her, or say anything, but Mich continued.

"Wash, what is the thing killing freelancers? How is it finding them? Who is dead?" she whispered demandingly.

He was quiet for a minute before telling her, "We call it the Meta. It's been hunting down and killing freelancers, stealing their AI and armor enhancements. It's been going on for almost two years now."

"And nobody's caught it?"

"No. That's what we are trying to do right now."

"But how is it finding them? Not just anyone can find a freelancer."

"All of the freelancers that were victims to it were still in possession of their armor, which has a tracking mechanism. The Meta is able to pick up on that. By the way--why was nobody ever able to pick up on _your_ signal at all?"

"Because I crushed the little son of a bitch," Mich replied. "Almost immediately after the crash--after I had just about given up on trying to find Carolina. Tau helped me find the tracking thing and told me how to destroy it. I never wanted to be bothered by the Director, or anyone still involved in the Project, so I made sure nobody could ever track me down."

"An unusually smart move, on your part," Wash commented, which earned him a glare from her. "But ironic, since you're here right now."

"Yeah, well, I never expected to see you ever again, to be honest. But that's beside the point. You said that this Meta could use the tracking mechanism in each suit to track down freelancers. I thought only Command and other agents could use those trackers to find freelancers. Or did someone hack into the system, or something?"

As soon as she said that, Mich realized that it _had_ to have been one of the other agents, and her heart sank.

"No one is able to hack the project's database like that," Wash was saying. "It is one of the agents. It's not really them anymore, though... more like a shell of who they used to be."

Mich was quiet for a second before she asked, "Who is it, Wash?"

There was silence, and then: "It's Maine, Mich. Maine is the Meta."

The pain upon hearing that was like an arrow piercing through her heart. Mich remembered back to the last time she saw Maine, and there was something _definitely_ wrong with him. And she knew the reason behind what had happened to him.

"It was Sigma, wasn't it?" she muttered. "Sigma made him like this. Because I _know_ Maine--he was never the friendliest individual, but he would never kill another one of the agents."

"We don't know for sure... but yes, it was probably Sigma," Wash admitted.

"I'm going to kill that thing," she hissed. "I always had a bad feeling about that stupid fiery douche."

"Okay, okay, calm down," Wash told her. "I-- _we_ \--are going to retrieve the Meta, and we'll hand all of the AI back to Command--including Sigma. They will all be taken care of."

"Uh, no way, bitch," Mich growled, which obviously surprised Wash by the way he jerked back. "Can't you _see?_ This is Command's fault, it's the _Director's_ fault that this ever happened! You can't just hand Sigma and the rest back to him--we've got to destroy Sigma _for good_."

"It's cheaper to recover the AI than it is to destroy them. The Meta has at least four or five AI, so if we destroy them, the Director would be _beyond_ furious."

"Do you really think that, after all these years, I give a _damn_ about what that fuckface thinks?" Mich spat. "Those things need to be destroyed before they hurt anyone else. Who gives a fuck if the Director throws a little crybaby tantrum? He deserves to have _something_ hurtful thrown at him, after all he's done to us."

"I thought you liked the AI units we were given. From what I remember, you were pretty friendly with most of them," Wash said, probably trying to diffuse the situation.

" _Most._ I never liked Sigma. I didn't like Gamma or Omega, either. Tricky little bastards. And Epsilon--well, I never got to meet him, but from what I know of him, I don't like him, and he should probably get deleted along with those others."

Wash didn't say anything after that, and Mich took that as the end of the conversation. She figured that the Epsilon incident was still a sensitive subject for him, and she wasn't about to push him about it. 

She fell back to walk with Church and Caboose, who had been a bit behind all the while she and Wash had been talking.

"Getting friendly with old acquaintances, huh?" Church said scathingly.

"More like trying to figure out what is going on," Mich corrected.

"Oh yeah? What's this guy's deal, then? Or are you going to start withholding information from us again like the old times?"

"It sounds like this... this person called the Meta is coming after freelancers and stealing their AI and stuff," Mich told him, trying to be vague without sounding like she was lying. "They've already killed multiple agents and have several AI. Wash was sent to try and capture them and bring them back to Command."

"And why does he need _us_ to help him?" Church asked. "I can see why he'd want you, because you're a freelancer, but what about _us_ , me and this big idiot?"

"Caboose had O'Malley in his head for a while, so he has experience with AI. You know about Project Freelancer, and I guess that's what Wash wants," Mich shrugged, not bothering to correct him on the freelancer thing.

"Seems suspicious to me," Church grumbled. "There's something going on with him. And I want _you_ to find out what."

"Me? Why me?" Mich asked dumbly.

"You're the freelancer here," Church said irritably. "You know him best. He might tell you something if you act like his buddy again."

"He's not the same Wash as the one I know," Mich murmured. "It's like he's a totally different person."

"Just _try_ , okay? We need to get the full story about this whole Meta thing, and you're our only chance at getting it."

Mich nodded, sighing deeply. She knew Church was right--they all deserved to know the whole story. Mich wasn't going to let them down this time. She was going to make sure they knew the whole deal.

Or, at least most of it.


	2. Chapter Two

The group spent the next couple days making their way to the canyon where Tex's plane had crashed--or, as Wash called it, Valhalla. During that time, Mich did her best to reconnect with Wash and to try to squeeze some information out of him, but had so far been unsuccessful. Well, really she was just insulting the Director and asking why Wash still worked for such a douchebag, trying to goad him into bursting out with some explanation. She had earned nothing other than Wash getting more and more agitated with her and more threats to inform Command on her location. Church was annoyed by this, which in turn annoyed Mich. What did he expect from her? She hadn't been in contact with Wash for over ten years, and during that time, they had changed drastically--or, at least Wash had. It was almost like they never knew each other before. The only sign that Wash gave to make it look like they knew each other was when he asked her questions on AI and the project and such. But even then, he still addressed her like Caboose and Church--reluctant acquaintances, like he wished he didn't have to deal with her. Mich could totally understand why, but that didn't make her feel any better.

The four had arrived at Valhalla and Wash had told the other three to wait while he talked to the soldiers guarding Blue Base. The outposts were swarming with steel-armored troops with multiple warthogs and pelicans--or, at least Blue Base was. Red Base seemed pretty deserted.

As soon as Wash was too far away to hear them, Church turned to Mich and once again asked, "Have you figured out anything else yet? Hopefully something to do with this Meta guy?"

"No, not really," Mich said exasperatedly. "I'm telling you, he's not going to tell me anything. We're not buddies anymore, he doesn't seem to trust me any more than he trusts you guys."

"What exactly do you know?" Church demanded, and Mich sighed.

"The Meta is going after all the freelancers, killing them, and taking their AI. He's already got multiple AI, which makes him super powerful. Wash has been ordered to capture him, bring him back to Command, all that shit."

Church cursed, kicking at the ground harshly. 

"We are getting nowhere," he grumbled.

"Obviously," Mich huffed. "What's the plan now, genius?"

"Keep doing what you're doing. The fucker has got to crack _sometime_. Especially if he has you bugging him constantly."

"Thanks a lot."

"No problem."

"He's coming back," Caboose informed them, and the two turned towards the approaching agent.

"We have a problem," Wash announced.

"I hope it isn't a math problem," Caboose stated.

"They've got the crashsite locked down," Wash continued, ignoring Caboose. 

"Oh, great. We couldn't have found that out on the radio?" Church said. "We had to _walk_ here?"

"They said we could use this base if we want," Wash told them, pointing at the Red Base with his gun.

"Dibs on top bunk," Mich said immediately.

"Wow. The empty concrete base. Is it our birthday?" Church said with increasing sarcasm.

"I want cake," Caboose added in.

"Could we find somewhere else nicer to hang out? Hey, maybe there's a cool nightclub nearby that you can't get us into, either. That would be awesome."

"You three just--stay here. I'll go draw off the guards," Wash told them. "When I give you the signal, use that grav lift."

He motioned inside the base at what looked like a vent coming out of the floor project a stream of very fast air. Mich was quite familiar with the device, and smiled slightly from the nostalgia.

"The _what?_ How do we use it?" Church asked.

"Mich here can show you. She's used one once or twice," Wash assured them.

"You could say that," Mich shrugged.

"Meet me at the ship," Wash continued. 

"Okay, what's the--"

"He's gone," Mich interrupted.

"--signal. Goddammit, I hate when they do that," Church muttered.

"When they do wha-- _hey_. Where's Agent Washington?" Caboose asked.

"Going to cause a distraction. Come on, let's get up to the grav lift so we can be ready when he gives the signal," Mich told Church and Caboose, hurrying into the base.

"Have you really used one of these before?" Church asked as they approached the grav lift.

"Yeah, quite a few times."

"I don't like it," Caboose said nervously.

"It's okay Caboose, it's not that bad," Mich assured him, patting his arm. "Let's just wait for the signal."

"What do you think he'll do for a distraction?" Caboose inquired.

"Who knows--he'll probably, like, make a noise, or throw a rock--that's what I would do," Church said.

"Wash isn't exactly one for--" Mich began, before their was a distant explosion at the Blue Base, followed by an alarm.

"--subtilties."

"I think he is better at distractions than you are," Caboose told Church.

"Yeah," Church said, just before Wash came in on their radios.

" _Okay, come on out, but come quietly,_ " Wash ordered.

"Alrighty, let's go," Mich said, stepping up to the grav lift, Church beside her. Caboose, however, stayed put.

"C'mon Caboose, let's go," Mich urged.

"Um, yes, uh, I don't want to. You see, I don't like the thing that I don't know what it is."

"It's easy, Caboose, watch," Mich said, before jumping into the grav lift, which caused her to be projectiled high into the air and towards, hopefully, Wash. She wasn't the most graceful grav lift-rider, but at least she wasn't as bad as Church--she glanced behind herself to see Church flying through the air and looking like a cartwheeling cheerleader. 

Mich was able to land on her feet, but staggered and fell on her face. Church wasn't so lucky--he went rolling ahead of her for an unusually long way, until he finally hit a warthog and stopped.

"That was fucking bullshit!" she heard him exclaim.

" _I said_ quietly, _what part of_ quietly _don't you understand?_ " Wash hissed over the intercoms.

" _What part?_ How about the part where I get _thrown eighty feet in the fucking air by the fucking throwing thing!_ "

Mich hurried over to Church, elbowing him harshly, which caused him to swing around and almost clobber her with his sniper rifle.

"What, are you saying that _you_ have never done that while using that stupid fucking thing?" he hissed.

"Not that badly, but somewhat close," Mich admitted. "Now _shut up_ before you give away our position. We still need to wait for Caboose."

"I'm right here," Caboose said, suddenly appearing behind them. Both Church and Mich jumped in surprise, and Church huffed, " _Caboose_. Don't sneak up on us like that."

"Sorry."

The three made their way along the canyon wall, attempting to be as discreet as possible, until they met up with Wash. He told them to crawl along the wall until they got the the ship, which was a few hundred yards ahead of them. They did so, Church complaining about crawling on rocky terrain, until Wash snapped at him to shut up. Church then descended to muttering indistinctly under his breath, no doubt cursing Wash and this entire situation.

As they got close to the ship, a tank passed by, and Wash commanded for them to stay still. Mich reflected on how Wash had never been confident enough to truly lead a mission during Project Freelancer days, and that he had definitely grown in that department.

"They didn't see us," Wash told them quietly as the tank passed by. "Okay, stay out of sight."

He continued towards the tank, the others right behind him. Once they reached the plane, they all stood up, Wash and Caboose inspecting it while Church and Mich attempted cracking their aching backs.

"You recognize this ship?" Wash asked the three.

"Yeah, this looks like it," Church told him.

"It's a standard-issue military pelican, just like every other one ever," Mich pointed out. "It could totally be another pelican."

"Mich, I swear to God--what _other_ pelican contained--"

" _Sheila?_ " Caboose exclaimed, interrupting Church. "Sheila, are you okay?"

"Umm, what is he doing?" Wash asked.

"Oh, yeah, we uh, transferred our tank's training program into the ship to help us repair it," Church explained.

"Did you inform Command that you moved the program onto the ship?" Wash questioned.

"Yeah, we're not really big on paperwork."

"That's actually a good thing in this case. If they don't know it's there, they may not have tried to activate it."

Wash stepped forward and hit something on the ship, causing a panel to clatter to the ground.

"Ah-ha, here we go," Wash said as a control panel was revealed. It lit up, and Sheila's voice began speaking in a distorted way.

" _\--eh-llo, and thank you f'r activating the--wait, where am I?_ "

"Sheila?" Caboose said again.

"Program, instruction: Run a full diagnostic and load the logs from your last flight," Wash told the ship.

" _Affirmative--except--exception: this system has taken dama--aken damage. I am functioning--I am functioning at minimum capacity-city-city._ "

"Program, instruction: Override exception," Wash ordered.

"Do not talk to her like that!" Caboose said fiercely. "She is not a program!"

"Woah, what? Calm down," Wash told him.

"I'm just gonna--stand behind Caboose for a couple minutes--you know, for safety reasons," Church put in, backing away, and Mich did the same.

"Okay, I only want to replay the logs from the crash. So can you please get it--"  
Church and Mich took a few more steps back.

" _Her_ \--to do that?"

After a moment, Caboose said to the ship, "Sheila, um, could you go ahead and do that thing he just said to me?"

" _Begin-beginning play-playback_ ," Sheila said, before it transferred over to the last log. Onscreen showed the inside control panels along with the audio file and record date. An alarm was beeping rapidly; it sounded like the plane was crashing.

_"Warning, warning: Systems failing."_

_"Sheila!"_ Tex's voice shouted, causing Church to jump slightly. _"System report, now!"_

_"Rear stabilizer, offline. Navigation, offline. And my system clock does not match interior records."_

_"Did Gamma get loose?"_

_"Negative, but I do not know for how much longer I can contain him."_

_"Computer, what about there? In the canyon--can we land?"_

_"Analyzing data--"_

_"Just tell me! Can you get us there?"_

_"I am unable to calculate--"_

_"Sheila, give me manual controls, now!"_

_"Acknowledged. Manual controls activated. Warning: Decompression."_

_"What?"_

_"Rear doors, open."_

_"Where are they going? Close the hatch!"_

_"Rear doors, open. Acknowledged. Warning: Altitude critical. Brace for impact. Brace for impact. Brace for impac--"_

_"Hold on, everyone! Hold on! Everybody just hold o--"_

The screen cut to black, the log ended, and the screen said "end of file".

"Okay, so after that, the ship crashed here," Wash stated. "And from what a survivor told us, the Blues got here first and offloaded the bodies and equipment. Then they started to get infected."

"Infected? What were they doing with the bodies?" Caboose asked, and Mich would've laughed if it wasn't for the situation.

"Oh, gross, shut up," Church huffed.

"No, really, what were they doing with the bodies?"

"They said their men started acting erratically," Wash continued. " And for some reason, they destroyed all their radios and their own com tower."

"Oh, okay, that was definitely Omega," Church said, and Mich nodded.

"You had a similar experience?" Wash asked.

"Uh, similar? It was exactly the same," Church told him.

"It all adds up, then. Omega was the one who inherited that trait. During training, they discovered he could move from suit to suit. For some reason, he preferred Agent Texas. They tried to reassign him, but he always made his way back to her, somehow."

Mich was about to tell him that Omega travelled over the radios, but Church asked first: "So where's your AI?"

Mich groaned, and Church glanced at her as Wash said, "I don't have one... anymore. It's a long story, but it's why I was chosen for this job."

"Okay, okay, I knew I'd heard your name before. You're the guy who went nuts, right?"

" _I_ didn't do anything. My AI--lost control of itself."

" _Right_. It just happened to do it while inside your head."

"Right."

"We have a lot in common, Agent Washington," Caboose said.

"No we don't. And don't ever say that again," Wash told him.

"Where's Tex's body?" Church asked.

"According to the prisoner, it should be in Blue Base," Wash answered, beginning to walk away.

"Take me to it," Church demanded. "I want to see it."

"What? I don't think so. That's there--"

Wash was interrupted by a sudden, rapid beeping noise. Mich frowned, hurrying over to Wash, who seemed to be listening to someone on his intercom.

"I have you, Command. Level Zero," he said. "Go ahead."

Church walked out from behind the ship, while Caboose stayed where he was, presumedly talking to Sheila.

"I received it here, too," Wash said.

"Received what?" Mich whispered.

"Standing by," Wash said, and Church asked, "What was that?"

"That was my Recovery beacon," Wash told him, turning a bit. "It means an AI is in jeopardy before--something... _else_... does."

_That "something else" being the Meta. Maine._

Caboose came to join Church as Wash turned back and again started listening to the other person on the line.

"Receiving coordinates for Recovery Target. Do we have an ID?"

After a few moments, Wash said with a sudden coldness, "Agent South."

" _South?_ South is still alive? She needs help?" Mich gasped.

"You familiar with her?" Church asked.

"Yes, yes--wait, she never had an AI, so how--"

"Yes. Yes she is," Wash said ominously to Command. He then ended the call, stating

"Recovery One, out" and turning to the others.

"We need to head out, now," Wash told them, before hurrying away, but towards a collection of mongooses instead of, presumably, the direction South's beacon was coming from. Mich raced over to him, with Church and Caboose a bit behind.

" _Wash_ , I thought South didn't have an AI," she said confusedly. "I thought they decided to pull all of the AI after what happened with Epsilon, so she couldn't have gotten a new one, right?"

"She didn't get a new one," Wash told her, his voice riddled with dislike. 

"Then which AI does she have?"

"You'll find out soon enough," he told her vaguely, before picking up his pace to leave her behind. Mich hurried after him.

"If you won't tell me that, then tell me what the hell we're doing right now," Mich huffed. 

"We're grabbing mongooses to head to the point where South is. It'll be faster than running," Wash told her.

"Okay then--who is riding with who?"

"We can only take so many mongooses that they hopefully won't notice missing. Church and Caboose can go on one... and I guess you can ride on the back of mine."

"Why can't I drive?" Mich demanded.

"One, you don't know where the beacon is coming from. Two, we would all die if I let your drive," Wash said drily.

"All right, good point."

Mich dropped back to be in pace with Church and Caboose so that she could tell them what was going on.

"Oh great. Why do _I_ have to share a mongoose with Caboose?" Church complained.

"Because Wash said so."

"Fine, whatever. But like--what is going on? If this South doesn't have an AI, why do we need to go after her?" Church asked.

"Apparently she does have one, but not a new one--she has one that was already made. Maybe Theta? If she has Theta-- _oh God_ \--"

"What? What is it?" Church said urgently.

"That means that--North is probably--gone," Mich said, her voice breaking.

"North? North and South--were they siblings?"

"Twins, yeah--the last I saw of them together was right before the crash--they were fighting. And not just, like, normal sibling bickering--North had his sniper rifles and South had a rocket launcher."

"Sheesh, sounds like a fight to the death."

"Yeah, but I saw North after the crash--he... he's the one that prevented me from going after--um, someone. He seemed pretty okay. I didn't know if South was dead or not--he didn't tell me. Apparently, she's not--but did they still leave together? I don't really see why they wouldn't, other than the skirmish, I guess..."

Mich trailed off, trying to focus on running and figuring out the situation. _God_ , she wished that she had Tau's help. He could've been able to figure it out. Or Delta--he was the logical AI, he most certainly could've figured this out. 

She was slammed with a harsh wave of pain upon thinking about both of the AI. She hadn't had Tau in her head for about three days, and she was missing him severely. She missed the before-sleep conversations they always had, and their inside jokes, and literally everything they had together. 

_I can't have him back until Maine_ \--the Meta-- _is taken care of, and Wash leaves. Who_ knows _how long that is going to take!_

And Delta--she hadn't seen Delta since before the crash of the MOI. York and Delta had left with Tex a few weeks before the crash, and Mich hadn't gotten to say goodbye.

York. Mich missed York so, so much. Above all of the people she missed, even above Wash, she had _always_ missed York the most. Her stupid big brother with his stupid face and his stupid jokes and his stupid _everything_. His huge inflated ego, backed up by nothing other than his huge confidence level and looks he counted on to butter up anyone. Mich missed all of it. He was the real reason she had even joined Project Freelancer--to go after him, because she couldn't bear to be without him.

_Funny how that ended up._

Among the things she regretted doing in the past ten years, Mich regretted most not trying harder to find her brother. She knew he was on the run--helping crash a plane and destroying a military project made sure of that. It would be next to impossible to find him, especially if he was with an agent as good as Tex. York was a pretty amazing agent himself--he had been in the top three on the leaderboard for almost the entire time it had been there, the only exception being when he lost his left eye due to a training session gone wrong. Mich knew that if York didn't want to be found, he probably would never get found. But still--she wished she had tried harder. 

_Maybe I'll see him on this whole trip with Wash._  
The thought of seeing her brother again after so long put more motivation into her than anything since she had originally joined the military.   
_I could see York again._

"What's got you so pumped?" the voice of Church pulled her out of her thoughts. Mich figured that she must have done some sort of excited jump or arm flapping without her realizing it.

"We were talking about one of your friends possibly being dead. Doesn't seem too happiness-inducing to me," the pale blue soldier continued.

"If we're going after something going after freelancers, than we're going to see other freelancers as well. I was just thinking that my brother might be one of those agents we meet up with."

"Brother? You had a brother in the project?" Church asked.

"Yeah, York. He was my older brother," Mich told him.

"York, York, York... _oh._ Is _that_ why you're so annoying?" Church snorted.

" _Excuse_ me?"

" _That_ idiot--oh my God--that makes so much sense now. You're just like him," Church told her.

"I'm taking that as a compliment," Mich said, fully knowing it was supposed to be the opposite.

"That wasn't supposed to be a compliment."

"Obviously. I'm glad I remind you of my brother. I did my best to be like him."

"I can see that. You did an unfortunately good job at doing so."

"Thank you."

"You are _not_ welcome."

"All right you two, quit chit-chatting and get on these," Wash commanded, quickly hopping onto a mongoose. Church got on another, Caboose joining him, and Mich got on the back of Wash's.

"Ooh-hoo, this is going to be fun," Mich grinned. 

"Don't jump off unless you want to be run over," Wash warned. "I cannot afford to leave you behind, so I will just make sure you get run over at least once before getting you back up here."

"Oh, that's cheerful," Mich said sarcastically. "Just get driving, motorhead."

Wash snorted, then turned the keys and quickly took off, Church following. They heard shouts of the soldiers stationed at the bases, and a few gunshots, but the four were able to escape without injury. They were on their way.

_Time to rescue South._


	3. Chapter Three

Mich was surprised at how soon Wash shouted that they were approaching South's location--they hadn't even been trying for an hour yet. _Either these mongooses are super fucking fast--or South was just really close to where we were._

She wondered if they had just gotten lucky on being close to where South was, and hoped it was just that. If not, that could mean they had been possibly being followed. _But why would South follow us and not join us? Does it have something to do with the AI she is in possession of? Was she trying to bring it to Wash to keep it safe?_  
Knowing South, that probably wasn't it.

Before she could think further on why South might've been following them, Mich heard gunshots not too far ahead of them. By the way Wash increased acceleration with the mongoose, he had heard them too.

They came around a dusty path bordering a large lake and into a rocky canyon, and were able to see a large dome-shield, which was being shot at by a large, white-armored individual--Maine. And inside the dome-shield was someone else in lavender-and-green armor--South. She was alone. North was nowhere to be seen. 

" _There they are!_ " Wash yelled. He swerved his and Mich's mongoose to the right while Church and Caboose went to the left. Maine turned towards them, holding his go-to weapon, the bruteshot, or knifle, as Mich used to call it.

" _Don't let it get near her!_ " Wash ordered. " _And don't let her get away!_ "

He leaped off his mongoose and began firing at Maine. Mich stumbled off the mongoose, trying to not let the emotion building up inside her to get in the way. She was not about to shoot at Maine, no matter what he was now, but she could at least attempt to keep South from running away.

Mich hurried over to join Church and Caboose, ignoring Wash's shouts, telling her to assist him. 

"That's South?" Church asked, nodding towards the retreating agent.

"Yes, now we gotta go after her," Mich said, racing past him and jumping up onto the rock he was crouched behind. "We can't let her get away."

"Okay--Caboose?"

"Hello."

"See the purple one?" Church asked him. "She's on our team. You should help her."

"Okay!" Caboose said, standing up.

"Wait--Caboose, _no_ \--"

Mich's protest was drowned by the series of shots Caboose fired, one of them hitting South and causing her to fall.

"Um, she got in the way while I was trying to help her," Caboose said.

"Okay, we're good," Church said as Wash joined them behind the line of rocks and Mich jumped off her perch.

"God _dammit_ , now look what you've done," Mich hissed.

"What? Wash told us to not let her get away, and we did exactly that," Church retorted.

"She can't get away now."

"Yeah, but now she might _die_."

"Not my problem."

Mich let out a frustrated sigh, about to yell something else at him when Wash warned, "It's gone invisible. Keep an eye on your motion trackers, and watch your perimeters! Look for a shimmer."

"It can turn _invisible?_ " Church exclaimed, standing up and looking around. "What _is_ this thing?"

"It takes the equipment of other freelancers--it must have picked up cloaking from Tex."

"Wait, _any_ equipment?"

"Yes, why?"

"Shit!" Church exclaimed. "Wyoming. Cover me."

He leaped out from behind the shelter of the rocks, and Mich took his place, her rifle raised.

"Wait, _Wyoming?_ Mich, cover him. Caboose, grab those spike grenades," Wash instructed.

"No, don't let _Caboose_ help me," Church protested as he sprinted away. Maine suddenly appeared on a rock above Church, and Mich shouted, " _There he is!_ "

"Hey, how about a little help out here!" Church yelped as Maine began firing at him. Mich shakily raised her gun up towards Maine, fingering the trigger. 

"On it! Caboose, toss that grenade!" Wash shouted as he threw a grenade of his own.

Caboose tossed the grenade--about three feet directly in front of him. The grenade hit the wall right beside Mich, though she barely noticed it. 

"That was the worst throw ever. Of all time," she heard Wash say, though he voice sounded strangely like an echo. _We're not in a cave, so what's up with that?_

"Not my fault. Someone put a wall in my way."

"Jump, jump! Mich, c'mon!" Wash shouted, shoving Mich as he leapt over the rocks and away from the grenade. Mich scrambled over the rocks, barely making it over the other side before it blew.

She got blown forward by the force of the grenade, grunting as she hit the ground and rolled forward. She finally stopped on her back, raising her rifle and peering around with it.

"What? Where did it go--what happened?" Wash asked confusedly, also looking around.

"You don't remember?" Caboose inquired. "It threw a grenade and it landed between us. But don't worry! I saved you and Miss Mich."

"It used Wyoming's stupid time thing from the ship!" Church yelled in frustration as he made his way over to them. Mich sucked in a breath before sighing it out and getting to her feet.

"What's wrong with you? Why didn't you tell us it could use equipment?!" Church nearly shrieked.

"Why didn't _you_ tell _me_ that Wyoming was on the ship?" Wash threw back.

"And why didn't someone give me something tell yell about?" Caboose yelled.

Church turned at Mich and was, assumedly, about to yell at her, when they all heard South groaning in pain. The four hurried over to the wounded agent.

"Delta, are you here?" Wash asked, and Mich sputtered, " _Delta?_ "

 _"Affirmative, I am undamaged,"_ Delta confirmed, appearing over South. _"However, Agent South is seriously wounded. May I suggest moving me to a new host?"_

Mich thought she was hallucinating. _Delta? What is_ Delta _doing here with_ South _?_

"Roger that," Wash agreed. "I don't trust her anyway. One of you two take him."

He nodded to Church and Caboose, and Mich would've protested if she wasn't so shocked about Delta being here.

"Um, I don't think I can--" Church began, and Caboose came forward, saying, "I'll do it. I like meeting new people."

He crouched beside South, grabbed Delta's chip out of South's helmet, and put it into his own. Caboose stepped back, and Delta appeared next to him.

"Delta, what happened?" Wash asked the AI.

_"I agree with the simulation trooper. The Meta has most likely acquired a temporary time distortion unit and an AI capable of running it. In this case, Gamma."_

"Well why didn't it kill us, then?" Wash questioned.

_"I am sorry, but I do not have enough data to formulate an answer. I think we should simply be happy that it is gone."_

"That makes sense to me," Church said.

"I also agree with the glowing person," Caboose added. "Everyone else sees a glowing person, right?"

"Hold on, hold on--Delta, that's really you?" Mich struggled to word the question due to her mind whirling.

_"Yes, it is me. Hello, Agent Michigan. It has been a long time."_

"Yes, yes, enough of that. Delta, I need to know why the Meta didn't kill us," Wash insisted.

_"It is possible that the Meta has been injured in some way and is retreating to repair itself."_

"So, if we can find it before he does, we may stand a chance of beating him."

"Either way, I don't think we should be hanging around here," Church stated.

"Then let's get moving," Wash said.

"Not before I can get some answers," Mich protested, just as South struggled to her feet.

"I can't walk on my own," South told them. Mich cautiously stepped towards her, but South half-stumbled away. 

"Get away from me, short stuff."

"Well, I guess you better start crawling," Wash told South. "If you think I'm leaving you here to escape, you've got another thing coming."

 _"Agent Washington, if I may,"_ Delta butted in. _"Before you arrived, South attempted to turn me over to the Meta, to save herself."_

" _What?_ " Mich whispered, while Wash drawled, "Really?"

_"Much like she wounded you to escape with our previous encounter with her."_

"South, you _shot_ Wash?" Mich gaped.

_"And, as I've come to learn in our travels, her brother North suffered a similar fate."_

"North is dead?" Mich choked, forgetting how to breathe. _Oh my God, North is gone,_ South _killed him--_

"Looks like you were right on that," Church commented, looking at Mich. "He is dead."

"What a team player," Wash said with absolutely no emotion whatsoever.

_"It is highly probable that she will turn on us again soon, and in her current physical state, she will only hamper our progress."_

"What are you suggesting?" Wash asked.

_"That we do not allow her to hamper our progress."_

"Wait--"

"Okay," Wash cut Mich off, drawing his pistol and pointing it straight at South.

"Oh, come on, Wash, what are you gonna do, sh--"

South's last words were cut off by a gunshot, and she immediately fell to the ground. This time, she was dead.

"Yes. Good suggestion."

_"You're welcome."_

"Dude, you guys are some cold motherfuckers," Church said, just as Mich let out a sob and fell to her knees.

"Mich, did you get hit by some shrapnel?" Church asked her, taking a few steps toward her.

"No, she didn't," Wash said. "She's fine. Come on, Mich, get up."

"Goddamn, Wash, what is _wrong_ with you?" Mich shouted, ripping off her helmet and throwing it down. 

"Like Delta said--she was only going to delay our progress, and she would probably betray us later on," Wash told her coldly.

"But Wash--that was _South!_ Not just any other person, but one of the other agents, one of our _friends!_ You just _killed_ her!"

"She shot me first, okay?" Wash said, his anger increasing. "We had a score to settle. I finally repaid her for the bullet in my back."

" _Wash_ \--what the _hell_ has happened to you? If Neb was here--"

" _Nebraska isn't here because of her!_ " Wash bellowed. Mich looked up, shocked, and stared into Wash's cold visor.

"South tried killing the both of us, and she succeeded with him. She _killed_ him."

Everyone was silent for a minute, before Wash said bitterly, "You better get used to change, Michigan. Things are a whole lot different than they were since you _left._ Nobody is the same as we were back then, so don't expect things to be the same."  
He walked away from the group, their gazes following him.

"Mich, I knew you were a freelancer, but _goddamn_ , you failed to mention a shitload of things," Church commented. Mich glanced at him, but didn't answer. She was too hurt by hearing that Nebraska and North were dead, and just witnessing Wash kill South. This was too much.

She stood shakily, before stumbling away behind a rock and vomiting. She crawled away from her regurgitated last meal and held her face in her hands, sobbing. She was never going to see North again, or South, or Nebraska. They were gone, gone forever, and she never even gotten a chance to say goodbye.

_Say goodbye._

_York._

Mich stood too quickly for her body's liking, but she ignored the protests from her mind as she hurried as quickly as she could from behind the rock and over to the group. Wash was currently shooting at South's body, probably trying to destroy the armor, while Church, Caboose, and Delta were conversing. Mich wasn't going to interrupt Wash, so she staggered over to the two Blues and the AI.

" _Delta_ ," she said, not paying attention to the previous conversation. "Why were you with South? You were paired with York. _Where is York?_ "

The green AI was quiet for a moment before telling her, _"I am afraid to inform you that Agent York was killed during a shootout between him and Agent Texas against some simulation troopers and Agent Wyoming. He has been dead for over fourteen months."_

" _Wyoming?_ God, that guy really was a real mercenary," Church huffed, but Mich barely heard him. Her knees gave out, and she crouched on the ground, holding her head in her hands.

"No, no, _God no_ , not _York_ \--" she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks. It felt like her world had been torn apart, with all the people she cared about on that other side. Pain exploded within her, and she felt like she would burst at any moment.   
She was hardly aware of what was going on around her until someone crouched beside her and nudged her. She looked up and was surprised too see that it was Wash.

"C'mon, we've got to get going," he told her, his voice as gentle as it was probably going to get--which wasn't very much, but Mich appreciated it all the same. She stood up, and Wash handed her helmet over. Mich wiped her eyes, sniffling, before slipping her helmet back on into place. Wash led the other three back to where the mongooses had been discard at the beginning of the attack.

"Oh, great. Looks like it took one of our cycles," Wash groaned. "So, what do we do?"

"What, are you asking us? I thought you were the big know-it-all super agent guy," Church huffed.

"I would go home," Caboose put in.

"Yeah dude, _retire_. You got any savings, like a 401K or something?" 

"Delta, can you shed any light on this?" Wash asked, ignoring Church and Caboose's suggestion.

 _"Not without further data,"_ the AI answered.

"Why do you want these AI things, anyways?" Church questioned.

"AI help us in battle, depending on their functions," Wash told them. "We couldn't run half our equipment without them. And if you get your hands on a smart AI, you can be damn-near unstoppable."

"What, smart like Delta over here?" Church asked.

"Not exactly. He's just the logical one of the family. Smart means something totally different for AI than it does for people."

"Now let's not go throwing around words like 'smart' for no reason," Caboose said, and Mich managed a small smile at that.

_"Wash is correct. We are more analgesic to what you would call a fragment."_

"Actually, I don't care, so I wouldn't call you guys anything," Church told Delta.

_"There is one smart AI in the Freelancer program."_

" _Delta_ ," Wash said in a warning tone. 

_"The Alpha is a fully-formed--"_

" _Delta!_ That's enough," Wash snapped.

"What's Alpha?" Church asked.

"The Alpha AI. It's nothing. It's a myth. A fairytale."

_"It's hardly a myth. Agent Washington, you must have memory of the--"_

"Delta! Command: Offline," Wash barked.

 _"Complying,"_ the AI said, before disappearing.

"Oh, sounds like someone has a secret," Church said, turning to look at Wash.

"I just get tired of hearing these things talk about their Alpha, and you will, too. They get obsessed with the idea of it. That's all they care about sometimes."

"But what _is_ it?" Church asked.

"If it's something really scary, you don't have to tell us," Caboose said.

"The whole idea of the program was to study soldiers with experimental AI. But rumor has it they could only ever get one. So they had to copy it. The original was Alpha, then Beta, and so on."

"They _copied_ them?" Church laughed. "I like that. If one is annoying, then twenty of them is going to be _awesome_."

"The copies became obsessed with this idea of the Alpha, the original. In debriefings, they would always turn conversations towards the topic of the Alpha: where it was, if they could see it. Some even took... drastic steps."

"Like, shooting-their-partner-in-the-head drastic, or--"

"I told you, she shot me in the back first!"

"And we believe you," Caboose nodded. "Even though we don't think shooting a friend in the back occasionally isn't that big of a deal."

"Some freelancers tried to get to Alpha on their own," Wash continued. _Tex and York._ "They broke into the secret storage facility where it was kept. They almost got to it. After that, they shut down the--"

Wash was interrupted by the sound of his recovery beacon going off.

"Oh, great, we thought the Meta was hurt, but apparently he's off killing more of your buddies," Church said sarcastically.

_Oh no. Not another one--_

"Pipe down," Wash ordered, before saying, "Go ahead, Command."

Mich cracked her knuckles anxiously as Wash said, "I'm getting it, too. Do you have coordinates and an ID? Command, you're breaking up on me, please repeat, how _what_ can--"

He broke off, and a few moments later exclaimed, " _What?_ Maine? How can that be--yeah, it's him--it's the Meta."

" _What?_ " Church shouted.

"Command, give me those coordinates, now."

"The _Meta_ is a _freelancer?_ "

"Command! Command, come in! Delta, what's happening?"

"Mich, you didn't fucking say that the _Meta_ is a _freelancer!_ " Church practically screamed at her.

 _"Our transmission is being jammed,"_ Delta informed Wash.

"Shut up, it's barely even him anymore!" Mich shouted back at Church. "This is _not_ Maine, he would never do this--"

"Tell me you got the coordinates before we lost it," Wash said.

"A _freelancer!_ " Church shouted again. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

 _"I'm sorry, I did not,"_ Delta apologized. _"I did receive bio data with the identification, though. It appears as though is experiencing mass power fluctuation."_

"Power?" Wash echoed.

"Maybe all that AI and equipment can't run on one suit of armor," Church suggested.

_"That is an excellent analysis. The Meta is most likely dangerously low on power, and will attempt to augment energy in some way."_

"Then we need to get to it _fast_. But where?"

Church, Caboose, and Mich all glanced at each other.

"We, uh, we might know where it's going," Church told Wash.

"Where?" Wash asked urgently.

"There's a wind turbine facility near here," Church said. "There's plenty of power there, right?"

"Yes, perfect!" Wash nodded. "Let's get going."

All four people and the one AI glanced at the one mongoose.

"I call dibs on shotgun," Mich said immediately.

"There is no shotgun, you idiot," Church huffed. "There's one seat. And the back."

"I call dibs on the back," Mich amended.

"You are the smallest one here, so if you're the one at the bottom of the pile, you're probably going to end up dead and deflated by the time we get there," Wash deadpanned. 

"Not smallest--Church is three inches shorter than me. I checked."

"Hey, quit calling me out like that," Church protested. "And when did you ever check how tall I was?"

"Whatever, it doesn't matter," Wash interrupted them. "I guess one of you ride behind me... another on the back... and then one hanging of the edge. Or running. Or all of you can run, how's that?"

"We don't have any speed boosts, genius, so nobody is going to keep up with you," Mich snorted. "Let's go with the first plan. I'll hang off the edge."

"Dibs on back," Caboose said quickly.

"Aw, goddammit."


	4. Chapter Four

It was really hard holding on to the back of the mongoose while dealing with the pain of loosing so many people at once raging through your body. If Caboose wasn't there making sure she didn't slip off, Mich definitely would've fallen and gotten left behind by now. All she could do was do her best on concentrating on her grip and remembering she can mourn later. Right now, she was helping Wash with his mission to catch the Meta. She could cry for her deceased friends later.

Though, thinking about the Meta brought harsh agony upon her, too. She couldn't believe that Maine had turned into the... thing he was now. _And he's been like this ever since the crash..._

_Could I have saved him?_

Mich shook away those thoughts. She couldn't dwell on how she had practically _left_ him there, at the crashed MOI, and that she never tried to help him.

 _That's not what happened. Maine was already not himself after the crash. I_ did _try going after him, to help him, somehow, but North prevented me from doing it because he didn't want me to get hurt. By the time I woke up, he was gone. There was nothing I could have done._  
Still, learning what Maine had turned into put new guilt into her heart, and she couldn't seem to be rid of it. 

" _We're getting close to the facility_ ," Church announced over the coms, rousing Mich from her thoughts. She shifted her feet slightly, wishing she could see ahead of them, but all three of her companions were in the way. Wash sped up a bit, causing Mich to nearly loose her grip on the mongoose. Luckily, Caboose grabbed her and hauled her up in a safe position so that she could regain her foothold. 

" _Thanks, Caboose_."

" _You're welcome!_ "

" _Here it is_ ," Church told them as a large factory came into view.

Wash brought the mongoose around to one side and hopped off the vehicle, the three following. Church started complaining about his legs aching because of being in an awkward position, but Wash quickly hushed him up.

"Look, there's our cycle," Wash said, pointing at another mongoose that was parked a little ahead of them. "The Meta must be here."

"Yeah, because no one else in the military would have a standard-issue cycle just like that," Church snarked.

"Also, the piles of dead bodies might've been a clue," Caboose added.

"I would say that is a _dead_ giveaway," Mich nodded seriously.

"Shut up," Wash hissed. "Just keep your heads down and your eyes open."

He headed over to the staircase that seemed to be the entrance to the facility, and Mich, Church, and Caboose quickly followed.

"I'm going to advance along that wall. You three take Delta and move up along the other side."

"Okay," Church said.

"Don't use the radio unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Okay."

"And don't make a move until I do."

" _Okay_."

"And no screw-ups this time."

" _Okay!_ Are we gonna sit here on the beach all day, or are we going to go get this thing?" Church asked, frustrated.

"We only have one chance at this before it gets back to full power. I can't take any chances that you guys are going to botch this," Wash told them, before hurrying up the stairs.

_"Agent Washington, perhaps it would be best that I assisted you in battle rather than helping Caboose,"_ Delta said, appearing beside Wash, as Mich ran after him.

"Yeah, and shouldn't I go with you rather than Church and Caboose?" she asked. "Y'know, I was a freelancer, too."

" _Was_. You were barely one even when you were in the project," Wash criticized. "You're definitely not one now. I need you to use what freelancer knowledge you might have to help those two."

Mich sent a glare at him, feeling hurt by that, even though he was probably right.

_"Statistically speaking, a freelancer would have much better training for handling--"_

" _No_ ," Wash said firmly, as the two Blues came up the stairs. "Now get going, both of you."

Wash ran off, and Mich sighed as she watched him go. _Where did the friend I knew go?_

Church led Mich and Caboose in the direction Wash had instructed them to go, holding his sniper rifle close. Mich wondered if he would ever learn to use it.

" _Psst_ , hey, Delta," Church said quietly.

_"Yes, how may I be of assistance?"_

"Hey, can I ask you a couple of questions about this freelancer program?" Church asked, and Mich internally groaned.

_"Certainly. I will answer what I am capable of answering."_

"This Alpha thing--why doesn't Washington want you to tell us about it?"

_"I believe Agent Washington is uncomfortable with discussing the program in any fashion. He was one of the many failures during the implantation process."_

" _One_ of the failures?" Church echoed as the three got on their knees and looked out from behind a wall and into a courtyard. Multiple dead Red bodies were laying around. "How many were there?"

_"Several. The Director felt time was limited and escalated the pace of experiments. I would classify Agent South as another failure."_

"But she didn't even get an AI," Church pointed out as he moved out into the courtyard, Mich and Caboose right behind him.

_"Correct. Agent South Dakota and her brother North were merely another kind of experiment: what would happen when one agent received an AI unit, and another did not."_

"I guess we found out how well that worked out," Church remarked.

_"Precisely."_

"I still can't believe she killed her own brother."

"Me neither," Mich said under her breath.

_"She put him in a position to be killed. South rarely worked in a direct fashion."_

"What a bitch," Church huffed.

"Other experiments like the Dakotas were common towards the end. For instance, Agent Carolina was implanted with two AI at one time."

" _Two_ of them? That would drive me nuts."

_"Indeed. She only functioned for a short time, and not very well while she did. Having three minds at one time are too... taxing."_

"Yeah, but if Agent Maine has more than one AI, wouldn't he be having problems, too? Like that Carolina chick?"

_"Undoubtedly. Agent Maine's power symptoms are only a small glimpse at what must be happening inside his helmet."_

"Oh great, powerful _and_ crazy. What a winning combo."

 _"Warning: enemy target detected,"_ Delta suddenly alerted as the three approached an open balcony, and Mich raised her rifle instantly.

"There he is," Caboose whispered, and Mich glanced around him to look down in the open room. It had multiple ginormous fans, and the Meta was right down there among them.

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious," Church shot back quietly. "Look, there's Wash. I hope he gives us some kind of--"

" _Now!_ " Wash, who was on the opposite side of the room on another balcony, shouted as he threw a grenade down towards the Meta. 

"--signal."

"Move up!" Wash directed as he began firing at the Meta, jumping down onto a storage container and then to the floor. The Meta snarled and made his way in Wash's direction, shooting at him. Already-dead sim trooper bodies blew around at the impact of gunshots landing too close to them. Mich tried to fire at the huge white soldier, but she was unable to make any clear shots; he was moving to fast and too close to Wash. She couldn't risk hitting and possibly seriously injure him.

The Meta suddenly rammed Wash into the chain link fence separating parts of the room and casted him aside. Mich gritted her teeth, then leaped down straight to the ground, ignoring Church's sharp warning. She grunted as she landed on her shoulder and rolled, hurriedly getting to her feet. The Meta was already making a break away.

"Don't just stand there, after it!" Wash shouted as he started to get back up. Church threw a grenade towards the Meta, and Mich was barely able to dodge it before it fell and exploded, missing the Meta. _Church and his fucking horrid aim._

Church raced past her, with Caboose moving up along the balcony and Wash and Mich down on ground level. The three took places along the wall, attempting to hit the Meta.

"There, use your rifle," Wash ordered as he and Mich began firing rounds.

"My rifle?" Church asked, surprised.

" _Shoot it!_ " 

Church fired a bit too late--the Meta jumped through one of the slowly spinning turbines and the bullet hit one of the blades.

" _Dammit!_ " Church cursed as the bullet ricocheted all around. The three followed the round's path as it bounced along, until finally coming to a stop at the Meta's ankle.

"I got it! Yes! Did you see that?! What a shot! I'm awesome!" Church shouted as Wash leapt over the wall and chased after the Meta.

"It only counts if you call it," Wash called back.

"Oh, bullshit, dude!" Church huffed as he and Mich followed after the agent.

"Great shot, kid, that was one-in-a-million," Mich told him, laughing at her own joke.

"I'm not a kid, shut up."

"It was a _reference_ \--­oh, nevermind."

They made it outside the building and came across a bloodspot on the dirty ground.

"Look there," Wash said softly, pointing out the spot. "Come on, quietly."

"Yeah, okay," Church whispered back.

"Hey, do you hear something?" Wash asked, and right after that was when Mich heard it: the all-familiar sound of upbeat Mexican polka music. _Oh my God--_

"No--wait, yeah," Church affirmed as the three stopped on the beach.

"What is that?" Wash asked. "Music?"

"What? Oh, n--"

" _Wahoo!_ "

Suddenly, a warthog came racing around the corner, and Mich couldn't help but grin at the sight of her teammates, whooping and hollering as their vehicle came charging across the sand and blasting their trademark theme music. The grin disappeared, however, as she nearly got hit by the warthog, and she was barely able to jump out of the way. The Reds continued towards the powerhouse, yelling all the way. Wash, Church, and Mich raced after them.

"It's Red Army!" Mich heard Sarge shout. "And nothing's gonna stop us now!"

They promptly hit one of the slow-spinning fans, knocking out the radio and rousing a ton of swearing.

"Who are they?" Wash asked as the three ran.

"They're the Reds from our canyon, Mich's buddies," Church explained, stopping. "Look Wash, I don't know how they found us, or why they're here, but we don't have anything to worry about. Seriously, not a thing. These guys are idiots. You think Mich is bad--well, these guys are ten times worse. They can't do _anything_ right."

"Okay, bitch boy," Mich huffed, slugging him on the shoulder. As Church had been speaking, the warthog was being lifted upward by one of the fan blades, and Mich could hear the gun on the turret being loaded.

Wash, apparently, had heard it too, because he said, "Um... we might one to take cover."

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," Mich yelped as Simmons began firing from the turret. Mich raced to the side and hid on the staircase. 

"Yeah, suck it Blues!" she heard Simmons shriek.

"Hey, hey _rocket man_ , quit firing before you actually hit someone!" Mich shouted, peeking up from behind the stairs.

" _Mich?_ " 

The rounds stopped being fired.

"Who else is it going to be?" Mich called back, standing up just in time to see the warthog flip upside down and fall to the ground, all three riders shouting hysterically. Mich leaped out from behind the stairs and raced over to the other Reds, who were all still in the jeep, which was somehow not flipped upside-down and ruined.

"Mich! The Blues didn't kill you after abducting you. What a shame," Sarge said as she approached.

"It's good to see you too, Sarge," Mich deadpanned, heading to the back and hopping up on the turret beside Simmons. Grif immediately slammed on the gas pedal, and Mich had to clutch onto the back of Simmons's armor to not fall off.

"It's very good to see you, Mich," Simmons said gleefully as he gave Mich a quick side-hug before grabbing the handles of the turret again.

"I'm happy to see you guys, too," Mich grinned. "What are you doing here?"

"To destroy the Blues, of course!" Sarge announced. "And to save you from your captors."

"My--my _captors?_ " Mich echoed confusedly.

"Yes! Agent Washington abducted you and forced you along as he reassembled the Blues," the older sergeant explained.

"Wh--Wash didn't capture me," Mich snorted. 

"That's what I was trying to tell him!" Simmons exclaimed.

"Shut it, Simmons," Grif broke in as he swerved the warthog around and came to a stop. The four leaped out of the vehicle and both Sarge and Grif started ordering Simmons around, trying to make a barrier.

"I--what--guys, what are you doing?" Mich asked.

"Preparing to end this once and for all," Sarge bellowed, just as Grif answered, "Ordering Simmons around because I can."

"Hey, we shouldn't be trying to shoot Wash and the others, we need to--"

" _Fire!_ " Sarge interrupted, and he, Simmons, and Grif began shooting at the other end of the courtyard, where Mich spotted Wash and Church firing back. She groaned, then not-so-gently tapped Sarge in the side with the butt of her rifle to catch his attention.

"Look, it was sweet of you to come rescue me--really, I'm touched--but we have a lot bigger problems than Wash, Church, and Caboose right now--"

_Caboose! Where is he? Goddamn, I wish I had Tau to scan the area--_

"What could be a bigger problem then the Blues rallying, kidnapping one of our troops, and trying to defeat us once again?" Sarge was saying, not slowing down at all with his firing.

"I tell you, they didn't _kidnap_ me," Mich huffed. "Wash needed my help, so I went with him."

"He's brainwashed you into thinking that," Sarge grumbled.

" _Wash?_ Yeah, I don't think so--"

"Simmons, keep firing! Don't let up," Sarge ordered the maroon private.

"Yes, sir!" Simmons nodded, reloading his rifle.

"And get the grenades out there!" Grif added in.

"Yes, sirs!"

"Grif, stop confusing everybody, I'm calling the shots!" Sarge barked.

"We're the same rank now, so I can do whatever I want!" Grif shot back.

"You're not qualified to lead in battle!"

" _Qualified?_ How hard can it be?"

Grif turned towards Simmons, who was by now the only Red shooting at the Blues.

"Simmons, you're doing a terrible job, and you should try to win harder. I mean, try harder. To win."

"That was awful," Sarge told him.

"Yeah, I've heard better from privates at basic," Mich added.

"I learned from watching you!" Grif practically wailed.

"Excuse me, sir?" Simmons said questioningly.

"What?" Sarge and Grif asked simultaneously.

Simmons sighed. "Nevermind."

"You guys really need to stop shooting at them. We all have a hell of a bigger opponent than--"

Mich cut herself off as the power all around the facility glitched and went out, and everyone stopped shooting in confusion.

"What was that?" Grif asked.

"Probably what I've been trying to tell you about," Mich huffed.

"Doesn't matter, keep shooting!" Sarge ordered, and he and Simmons started firing off more rounds just as Wash's amplified voice filled the courtyard.

" _Red Team. Attention, Red Team. Cease fire. Cease fire._ "

"I told you, _quit_ \--"

"What do you want?" Sarge shouted at Wash. 

"Yeah, what do you want?"

"Shut up, Grif!"

"That's 'shut up Grif, _sir._ '"

" _We are not your enemies_ ," Wash continued. " _My name is Agent Washington. I am a part of a special task force--_ "

" _Testing, testing_ ," Church's voice, also amplified, interrupted. "Holy shit, it does work! This is badass!"

"Stop it!"

"Yeah, shut up and let Wash talk," Mich shouted, tapping the side of her helmet to make her voice louder, as well.

"Hey, how'd you do that?" Grif asked.

"Shut up and I'll tell you later," Mich whispered after tapping her helmet again and her voice was able to resume it's normal volume.

"Oh no, we're not falling for that again," Sarge called to Wash. 

" _I am a special agent, from Command_."

" _And this is the voice of God. Give up your evil ways. Join the Blue Team--ow!_ "

Church broke off as Wash hit him over the head with his gun.

"Ha, yeah, if you're from Command, then you'd know our secure code word, wouldn't ya?" Sarge laughed.

" _What? Oh right, hang on one sec_."

There was a pause, before Wash said confusedly, " _The code word is... Code Word?_ "

"Ah, dangnabbit--"

"Sir, what did I tell you about that?" Simmons interjected.

"You could've picked literally _anything_ but fucking _Code Word_ ," Mich grumbled. "You could've done _Grif Suckz Dick 4 Dayz_ and it would've been better."

"I don't agree with that statement--"

"All right men, stand down," Sarge directed, cutting off Simmons.

"Stand down? We out number them four to two," Grif said.

"Two to one."

"Shut it, Simmons. That's like, uh, a fifty percent advantage."

"I thought you liked to give up in the middle of battle."

"That doesn't mean I want to die," Grif retorted.

"Men, they know the code word. There's nothing else we can do."

"Everybody knows the code word!" Grif protested. 

"Let's try negotiating," Sarge went on, ignoring the orange soldier. "Grif, you get out there. See what they want. First leave your weapons here so they don't feel threatened. Also, take Mich as your hostage."

"Wh-- _hostage?_ " 

"Yes, they kidnapped you, so they might want you back! If we have you hostage, then they will probably agree to our terms on our negotiation."

"But I'm a part of Red Team, I can't be held hostage by my own team!"

"Sarge, you might not think I'm a good leader, but something about those Blues doesn't feel right," Grif interrupted. "And I have an uncanny sixth sense. So if you won't help me, then I'm just going to have to make the local Reds do it. This guy looks legit. Maybe he can help."

Mich turned to watch Grif leaving, and when she saw who he was heading for, she let out a shout of alarm.

"Grif, get away from him!"

"Grif, get back here! You don't know anything about those soldiers! The Blues could be Red, or Red could be Blue, or they could be opposite now--"

"Shut up, old man, and watch how a real leader works," Grif called back.

"Grif, _no!_ That's not a Red--"

"Hey there, soldier! What's your name?" Grif asked the red figure beside the warthog. He was answered by a terrible growling noise.

"Huh, sounds like somebody has a cold. Anyway, listen, I need you to help with some--"

The figure suddenly lifted up the warthog, and Mich's blood ran cold.

"--thing. Wow, that's a cool trick. Where did you--"

The "red" soldier turned towards Grif, who started backing away.

"Um... I, uh..."

" _Grif, run!_ " Mich shouted, raising her rifle and pointing it at the warthog-wielding figure.

" _Oh God oh God oh God oh God--_ " Grif yelled as he finally began running. The warthog was thrown at him just as Mich began firing. The warthog caught most of the bullets, and the rest missed their mark.

"Fuck it," Mich hissed, reloading.

"Mich, who _is_ that?" Simmons asked fearfully.

"It's the Meta," she answered.

"The Meta? Who's that?"

"Bigass soldier with super strength, invisibility, and a bunch of other shit!" she screamed back. 

"Grif, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times!" Sarge shouted, walking out into the middle of the courtyard. "You gotta pay attention in battle! You can't let yourself get distracted by--"

"Sarge, warthog!"

"Oh crap, big jeep," Sarge said, leaping out of the way just in time.

"Run!" Simmons yelped, and he and Sarge ran away. Mich rolled out of the way as the former barricades were smashed, then got up and raced away towards Grif. Large crates, vehicles, and many other things were tossed over her, but she managed to dodge around them as she leaped over the barrier between the Meta and Grif, then crouched beside her cowering orange teammate.

"Oh my God, what the hell is that thing?!" Grif shrieked.

"It's called the Meta," Mich told him, propping up her gun and trying to see if she could get an aim. "He's like... a ton of Texes. Like, at least ten of her."

"We are going to _fucking die!_ "

"Well, now we are, since you guys came and ruined our plan and he powered up all the way," she grumbled.

"Hey, we were _trying_ to save you," Grif huffed. "Not that I wanted to. But you could at least say thank you."

"I didn't need saving!" Mich protested. 

"Well, it's too late for that now-- _ow, that could've taken out an eye!_ " he yelled as a piece of a com tower came flying into the pile of junk ahead of them. Mich pulled back her gun, realizing she was never going to get a shot while the Meta was throwing more and more shit on top of the pile and making the entire thing move. She began creeping around the pile, trying to figure out where he was by what direction the noise he was causing was coming from. _I wish Tau was here._

"Where are you going?!" Grif asked in a high-pitched voice.

"Trying to get a shot at this thing," she replied, eyes forward.

"Don't leave me here! Come on, you start being badass and you decide to leave?"

"Thanks for that, but yeah. You'll be fine here, trust me."

" _Trust you?_ But how--"

He was caught off by a loud series of rapid fire, with the sound of protesting roars mixed in. Mich chose to go the not-careful way and leapt onto the top of the makeshift barrier, doing her best to find her feet as she tried to see what was going on.

Wash was walking slowly towards the Meta, a huge spinning cannon in his hands. The Meta was backing away, blood spurting from multiple wounds. 

"If you want to see badass, you better get up here and watch," Mich called down to Grif, raising her rifle and taking aim. Suddenly, the red-disguised Meta wasn't there, and Mich cursed, knowing that he had used the time-manipulator again.

"It's gone!" Wash shouted, throwing down the cannon as everyone emerged from their hiding places.

"Yeah, no shit, dick biscuit," Mich huffed.

"Dammit! You _idiots!_ We _almost_ had it!" Wash scorned. 

"Almost had it? We never even heard it!" Simmons protested.

"He means _before_ you got here!" Church yelled. "We had it crippled and you guys showed up and fucked everything up!"

"Ah yeah, you looked liked you had everything under control before we got here," Sarge said sarcastically.

"Hey, up yours, Red. I don't see you doing anything heroic."

"It threw our _car_ at us," Simmons reminded him as Grif rushed up.

"I'm fine by the way, in case anyone was wondering," Grif put in.

"Yeah, _you're welcome_ ," Mich said pointedly. "You might've gotten killed if it wasn't for me."

"For you? You didn't do anything! You just stood there with your stupid gun and watched the thing like a deer in the headlights!"

"I was trying to take a shot, asshole! And I didn't see you doing anything better. You were the one curled up in a ball and crying for your mommy!"

" _Shut up, both of you!_ " Wash shouted suddenly, and Grif and Mich went silent, turning to him.

"Now, the three of you are staying with us now. I can't possibly hope to fight the Meta in this state with just Mich, Church, and-- _Caboose!_ "

Mich's eyes went huge, suddenly realizing she hadn't seen the Blue soldier in a while. Church and Wash raced up some stairs, and Mich was right behind, the rest of Red Team following.

"Caboose, where is he?" Mich called up.

She was answered when they came upon a platform, with Caboose lying on it in an unnatural way.

"Caboose!" she shouted, dropping to her knees beside him.

"Wash, what's the verdict?" Church asked seriously.

"I don't know. He _seems_ okay. I think he was knocked out, I just can't get him to come out of it--"  
Caboose began murmuring some things, and Mich breathed a huge sigh of relief. _Thank God he's alive._

"What's he saying?" Grif asked.

"I can't make it out, but then, I don't understand the things he says half the time normally," Church responded.

"This makes no sense. All his vitals check out. Why can't I revive him?" Wash asked. "Hey, do you guys know a medic around here by any chance?"

" _No!_ " all of the Reds and Church answered at the same time.

"Maybe removing Delta did something to him. Like a coma or something," Church suggested, and Mich furrowed her brow. He could be right, but Caboose only had Delta for less than a day. Would he really be affected this much by it?

_Then again, his brain is extremely damaged because of the Omega incident. It could be affecting him more than it would somebody else..._

"But there's no way to know that for sure, unless you have a way to see inside his head," Wash was saying, and Mich immediately glanced at Church.

"Prep him for evac, I'll put in a call for Command and get an extraction going," Wash continued, heading a little away and calling Command.

"Hey Blue, why don't you do that thing?" Simmons asked Church quietly. "You know, the thing you do. The ghost thing."

"Yeah, this guy doesn't know about that, so I don't really want to let him know and freak out," Church responded.

"Oh please, the worst that will happen is that he'll probably shoot at your figure. Wash isn't going to, as you put it, 'freak out'," Mich told them.

"Why don't you go keep him occupied and I'll see what I can do?"

Simmons headed towards Wash, saying, "Hey Agent Washington, it turns out we _do_ know a medic after all". Church crouched down, and a pale imitation of himself emerged, dropping beside Caboose and disappearing. Mich stood up, walked over behind Church's body, and stood in front of it.

"What are you doing?" Grif questioned.

"Hiding his body," Mich answered.

"We can see it still."

"You can see it, it's Wash who we don't want to see it."

"You know, for someone who was supposed to be part of an elite group of super-soldiers, you really aren't all that smart."

"Okay, but who was the one you were calling badass and pleading to not leave you alone? Shut your cakehole."

"Technically, I outrank you, so how about _you_ shut _your_ cakehole?"

" _Technically_ , I never was assigned as a private, and I'm still a special agent, so I actually outrank you."

"That was ages ago, so that doesn't count, you fossil."

"It was eleven years ago, not fifty thousand!"

"What are you two arguing about now?" Wash asked tiredly, and Mich jumped slightly, not noticing his and Simmons' approach.

"Uh, nothing?"

"Delta, Delta wait! Memory is the key?" Church's ghost-like figure suddenly appeared, speaking frantically. "What about the Meta? What about--"

"Uhh, dude?" Grif said, and Church turned to look at him, and then Wash and Simmons.

"Yeah, turns out I'm not so good at distracting," Simmons said apologetically.

"Uh, Wash? Don't panic, I can explain," Church began.

"Yeah, see, when Simmons was boring you with random conversation about nerd stuff, he was really just trying to distract you from what the Blue guy was doing," Grif nodded.

"He means explain the fact that he's a ghost," Sarge told Grif.

"Oh, right. Yeah, he can explain that part to you, too."

"Idiot."


	5. Chapter 5

"What is going on?" Wash asked, his voice completely emotionless.

"Wash, stay calm. We can explain," Church told him.

"I don't want explanations, I want the _truth_. _Now_. When were you going to tell me about this?"

"Okay, maybe I should start from the beginning. You see, Caboose here killed me by accident once. Well, actually, more than once."

"Not my fault," Caboose denied, and Mich glanced down at the seemingly knocked-out figure in confusion. "Tucker did it."

"Shut up," Church said.

"He _killed_ you? As in, dead?" Wash questioned.

"Then we reached an agreement," Sarge put in. "I build Blue over here a new body--"

"An _agreement?_ More like we kicked your ass, and you didn't have much of a choice with what you wanted to do," Church snorted.

"Who kicked what now?"

"What are you, an idiot?" Simmons huffed, and then they all began arguing, with only Wash, Mich, and Caboose not putting in their two cents.

_Ugh, I wish this wasn't how Wash had to find this out._

"Hold on, _focus_ ," Wash broke in. "How did you build him a body?"

"With the robot kit, of course," Sarge answered. "I'd already used ours to build our helper, Lopez."

"And a mighty fine job you did, sir," Simmons put in.

"Yeah, it's always fine to have a helper you don't understand," Grif said dully.

"At least he _helps_ , unlike you," Mich rolled her eyes.

"Like you do any better."

"Blue Team hadn't used theirs, for some reason," Sarge continued. "They even had an extra! We used that for your buddy, what's her name--"

"And that didn't strike anyone as odd? That you would have a kit to build a robot that looks like a soldier?" Wash asked.

_He's figuring it out, he's gonna find out--_

"We thought it was just standard-issue equipment," Simmons shrugged. "Right?"

" _What?_ No! Have you ever run into anyone else who has one?" 

"We didn't exactly go to house parties while we were in the canyon, Wash," Mich informed him.

"Okay, smart guy, if they're so rare, then why did Command send us upgraded ones when we were told to ship out to Rat's Nest?" Sarge questioned.

"You guys went to Rat's Nest, too?" Church asked, surprised.

"We used some of the spare parts to spruce up Lopez."

"Spare parts? Did you use them to fix his voice box thing?" Simmons asked hopefully.

"No, I didn't even think about that until just this second," Sarge told him.

"Kinda obvious in hindsight. Probably best not to mention it to him if you see him."

"Meh, he wouldn't be able to understand, anyway," Simmons said.

"Your team sucks," Church sighed.

"At least our robot isn't the leader of our team! Blue bot."

"Hey, that's not nice," Caboose said, suddenly getting to his feet as if nothing had happened to him. "He means us, right?"

"Yes, and shut up," Church grumbled.

" _Stop it!_ I can't stand this! _No more bickering,_ " Wash told them. "You have to be the most immature soldiers I've ever met!"

"Your face is immature," Grif shot back.

"That's like telling a house full of siblings to stop disagreeing with each other," Mich notified. "It's absolutely impossible."

"Shut up. From now on, everyone just keep quiet and don't talk unless I ask you a question. That's an order. I need to figure this out."

"Hold on! You can't order us around!" Sarge protested. 

"Yes, I can."

"What's your rank?" Sarge asked suspiciously.

"My _rank?_ You still don't get it, do you? You think you're real soldiers? You're not. You guys are _nothing_."

"Whatever. Your face is... nothing," Grif said hesitantly.

"We use your outposts as testing grounds. _Practice_. You never noticed you didn't have anything to do unless a freelancer showed up? Or you made a call to Command?"

"Technically, there was always a freelancer around, because Mich is a freelancer," Simmons told him.

"She wasn't ever supposed to be there! She went AWOL over a decade ago! She snuck in like a little rat and broke almost every rule she could have disobeyed! She always was wary any time Command was mentioned, wasn't she? She kept quiet about her past, didn't she? She hid the fact she was a freelancer until someone else revealed it, _didn't she?_ "

Mich swallowed nervously, looking down as the Reds and Blues glanced at her.

"You're making that up," Sarge growled.

"Am I? Think about it. Name one thing that ever happened to you that wasn't directly proceeded by Command calling you, or sending someone to your base," Wash said coldly, looking at all of them. "One thing."

They were all silent.

"Anything? No? I thought so. You three," he gestured to Sarge, Grif, and Simmons, "go asses the vehicles. See if you can find a trail of the Meta while you're at it."

"Ooh, finally, a take-charge leader," Simmons said happily, running off. "I like it!"

"Shut up," Sarge and Grif told him simultaneously.

"Church, get back in your armor. You're just going to draw attention to yourself like that."

" _Fine_. But first--"

" _No_ ," Wash interrupted. "No firsts. Get in your armor."

"I really think I should tell you what it is--"

" _Shh_."

" _I have a message from Delta_ ," Church told him with annoyance.

"Delta? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, come on. Seriously?"

"How did you get in contact with him?"

"He left a message for me in Caboose's head. Actually, for me to give to you. I guess he figured I could get in there and find it."

"How would he know that? Do you know what you are?"

_He probably sensed that Church is who he is and knew he could get into Caboose's head. Or he just figured it out._

"Well I didn't tell him, but he seemed pretty smart. Maybe he just put two and two together."

"Four!" Caboose burst out.

"No, that wasn't a test," Church sighed.

"Yes it was. I won, A plus."

" _What was the message?_ " Wash nearly shouted.

"Oh, he said, 'memory is the key'."

"Memory is the key," Wash echoed. "Did he say anything else?"

"Nothing else important."

"Memory is the key? What does that mean?" Caboose inquired.

"He said Wash would know," Church shrugged.

"Memory is the key," Wash repeated.

"Yeah, I know, it didn't make any sense to me, either. Sounded like some stupid riddle or something."

"Gather your gear. We're leaving, now. Mich, when you're done, come talk to me," Wash ordered, hurrying away.

"I think he's angry because of something," Caboose said.

Mich sort of doubted that--he didn't _seem_ angry--but she couldn't really tell.

_Why does he want to talk to me? Is it because he figured out what Church is and he wants to talk to me about how I probably knew and why I didn't tell him? Oh-ho, I'm in trouble now._

Mich went after her team to inform them on Wash's order to gather their things, and that they were leaving right afterwards. She found the three of them trying to push a warthog down from the pile she and Grif had used as protection from the Meta. Well, Sarge and Simmons were pushing, Grif was sitting in the front seat.

"Hey, guys--um, I don't think that's what Wash meant when he told you to go asses the vehicles."

"How would you know? I, for one, think this is exactly what he meant," Grif called down.

"You should get out of the car and help push, Mister Cheeseburger," Mich told him.

"Aw, don't make me hungry!" Grif complained.

Mich sighed, climbing up the pile to get beside Simmons and Sarge.

"Sarge, Wash said to gather our stuff so that we can leave. Like, right away," Mich said.

"Well then, help us get this jeep on the ground so we can go do that," Sarge directed.

"You know there's another warthog down there, already on its wheels and ready to go? Why don't we just use that?"

"That would be too easy!" Sarge said as Simmons let out an exhausted sigh and draped himself over the warthog. "We need to do some _real_ work."

"Well, Wash wants us to leave _really_ soon, so it'd be better if we just used the one already down there," Mich insisted.

"He can wait long enough for us to get this free," Sarge grumbled. The warthog shifted slightly forward, and Grif yelled in alarm. 

"It's moving up here!"

"Aha, see? Come on, all together now, one--"

"Oh God, please no," Grif protested, trying to scramble out of the vehicle.

"Two--"

Mich grumbled, then put her hands on the warthog, getting ready to push.

" _Three!_ "

Sarge, Mich, and Simmons all shoved the warthog as hard as they could, ignoring Grif's shouts. The pile creaked, then gave away as the warthog rolled free and landed, miraculously, on its wheels. Grif was cowering in the front seat, helmet in his hands, but he seemed okay. Sarge let out whoops of victory as he jumped off the pile. Simmons tiredly dragged himself down, while Mich hopped off.

"Hey Cheddar Jack, you alive in there?" Mich jested.

"Very funny," Grif huffed, just as Wash, Church, and Caboose came running over.

"What the hell happened?" Wash asked, looking from Sarge, Simmons, Mich, the destroyed pile of junk, and the warthog.

"We got that warthog you were asking for," Sarge announced proudly, waving at said vehicle.

"You--you know you could've just gotten the warthog over _there_ ," Wash said, pointing at the warthog Mich had spoken of earlier.

"This seemed liked more of a challenge," Sarge told him.

"Does this one even _run?_ "

"Dunno. Grif, check to see if it runs!"

"Yes, sir," Grif said bitterly, sitting up and turning the key. The warthog sputtered, but didn't start.

"Looks like you did all that for nothing," Wash snarked. 

Sarge kicked the side of the warthog in annoyance, earning another choked noise, and then silence.

"Dammit! We still had payments on this thing," Sarge complained.

"Just go check out the other one. Mich, come with me."

"Why doesn't _she_ have to help?" Grif objected.

"Because there are some things I need to talk with her about," Wash responded briskly, and Mich internally groaned. "Now, get to it."

Sarge, Simmons, and Grif went to go investigate the other warthog, and Caboose and Church hurriedly went after them after a quick glance at Wash. He gestured Mich over a bit farther away from the others, and she reluctantly followed him.

"You're not going to kill me in private, are you?" she asked jokingly.

"I should," Wash growled. "But I'm not. Why the hell didn't you tell me that Church is an AI?"

"Would you have believed me?" Mich shrugged.

"That's what Florida's 'duties' were, weren't they?" he continued. "To watch the Alpha AI while it was in Blood Gulch. You made a deal with him so that you would help him do that and he wouldn't tell Command you were there."

"Well yeah, why else would the Director send a good agent like Butch down to a dull sim canyon? He wouldn't really trust anyone else lower on the board to do it."

"Including you," Wash said. "You're not nearly qualified enough to do something as important as that."

"Well, thanks. If you haven't noticed, Church is pretty fine, despite _me_ being the one who has been watching him for most of this time," Mich pointed out.

"'Pretty fine'? I wouldn't call letting him get killed multiple times and allowing the entire canyon know that he is an AI ' _pretty fine_ '," Wash snapped.

"They don't know! They think he's a ghost."

"A _ghost?_ "

"Yeah, a ghost."

Wash rubbed his helmet as if he was rubbing his face and sighed.

"That's better than them knowing he's an AI, right? And about that--I think they should all know what he is. _Including_ Church," Mich told him.

"They don't need to know," Wash responded.

"Why not?" Mich challenged.

"They're only sim troopers. They don't need to know," Wash repeated.

" _Only sim troopers?_ Is that what you're seeing them as? Just numbers on a spread sheet, or the Director's little dummies?" Mich cried. "They're still _people_ , if you've forgotten, _David_. I've never seen them like everybody else did. I knew and have always remembered and treated them like people. You knew that once, too. What _happened_ to you?"

"You know what happened to me."

"Yes, I know, you've gone through a ton of shit, and I have, too! I know you know it's not easy going through the loss of everyone, because you went through it, too! York, North, Carolina, Connie, South, Maine, Nebraska, _you_ \--I lost nearly _everyone_ I had come to love, but you don't see me being a cold-hearted shithead, do you? You might be stuck in your little deal with the Director, but does it really cost so much to try and at least act like a decent human being?"

Wash didn't answer, just stared at her through his dull visor.

"I guess the Director doesn't allow you to be a decent person, does he?" Mich said bitterly. "I just want you to know that you need to watch your back."

"Is that a threat? From _you?_ "

"Not from me, Wash. From the man you're working for. He is a monster, and you know it. You might not know everything he did, and neither do I, but we both know enough. We both know what kind of man he is. Just--be careful when dealing with him. He's not going to reward you for being his cold, uncaring, little killing machine."

Mich turned around and swiftly walked away from him, heading towards the others. She had hoped that Wash would stop treating the others as less than human, but apparently, he wasn't up to that. 

_It's easier to lead a bunch of test subjects to their deaths instead of humans_ , Mich thought icily. She waited for Tau to agree with her, but then remembered that he wasn't in her head anymore. He was in her storage slot, hidden away from Wash and the Meta and everything else. She sighed sadly, fingering the slot regretfully. God, she missed him. She never could have imagined how hard it was to go about her day without him in her head. She didn't have that little voice of reassurance, the one that kept her on track, and helped her remember things, and pointed out the positive things that seemed obscured to her.

_What would Tau say in this situation? Probably something about how, despite everything, Wash hasn't called me in to Command. That's one good thing. And... I have my team back. Simmons, Grif, and Sarge are here. And Caboose and Church. So I'm not alone with Mister Roadkill over here._

Mich smiled a little, feeling somewhat better. _I guess thinking like Tau is something I should do more often._

She continued over to the warthog where her team, Church, and Caboose were gathered, and they all turned in her direction as she approached.

"So, did you get grounded? Maybe got your talking privilege taken away?" Grif sassed.

"Didn't we all technically get our talking privilege taken away?" Simmons asked.

"And who is going to be listening to that rule? Not us, that's for sure," Grif snorted.

"Seriously, what did he talk to you about?" Church asked, turning from the bickering Reds to Mich.

"Well, he wanted to know why I didn't tell him you're a ghost. I told him that he never exactly asked, so I never told him," Mich replied, not wanting to add in her and Wash's disagreement.

"That guy really doesn't like surprises, huh?" Church remarked, accepting her answer, to Mich's relief. 

"It _is_ a bit of a shock to suddenly be shown that somebody is a ghost and can enter people's minds," Simmons reasoned. 

"I guess."

"So, are we leaving now, or what?" Sarge asked. 

"Yes, we're leaving now."

They all turned to watch Wash as he came up.

"Me, Church, and Caboose will ride one of the mongooses around here. The rest of you will ride in the warthog," Wash told them.

“Aw, _again?_ ” Church whined.

“Dibs on back,” Caboose said.

“Oh, come on!”

“Hurry up, we need to get going,” Wash ordered. “We’re going to get another warthog on the way, so you won’t have to worry about being squashed on a mongoose after that. Believe me, I don’t like this situation anymore than you do, but would you rather share the warthog with the Reds?”

Church glanced at Red Team, then shook his head quickly.

“I thought so. Now, let’s go!”

Wash, Caboose, and Church went to get on a mongoose, while the Reds piled into the warthog.

“Shotgun!” Mich and Simmons said simultaneously.

“Too bad, you two, I’m riding shotgun,” Sarge told them, hopping in.

“Grif’s driving. Simmons, Mich, take your usual places at the turret.”

“Yes, sir,” Simmons said sadly.

“Whatever, old man,” Mich muttered, and the two climbed up to the back. Wash rolled up in a mongoose as Grif started the engine.

“Follow me, and don’t lag behind!” Wash shouted. “We can’t afford losing anymore time!”

“Yeah, whatever, let’s go,” Grif said without enthusiasm. Wash drove our of the courtyard and onto the beach, Grif and the other Reds behind. 

“Hey, what do you guys think Wash meant when he said we’ll be getting another warthog?” Simmons asked over the noise of the engine. “Where are we going to get another one?” 

“Eh, what’s it matter? Let’s just enjoy the sight of ghost guy being uncomfortable about riding right behind Washington," Grif snickered.

“You don’t think we’re going to _steal_ a warthog, do you?” Simmons questioned nervously.

“So what if we do?”

“It’s against the law!”

“Technically, warthogs are only legally allowed to have three people riding in one at once, but we’ve been having four on here for a while, and you don’t seem bothered by that,” Mich pointed out.

“Only because it was absolutely necessary,” Simmons insisted. 

“And it’s necessary for us to steal a warthog. We don’t exactly have the money to buy one right now.”

“You think we could trade in something for one instead?”

“What’s the fun in _that?_ ”

“We don’t get chased by the law for stealing a vehicle!”

“Ah, shut it, you two,” Sarge grumbled. “If we steal a warthog, we steal it. If we buy one, we buy it. What’s it matter, as long as it gives us time to figure out what Agent Washington is concocting in that head of his?”

“Concocting, sir?”

“Yes, Simmons. That guy is very suspicious, and we need to figure out what tricks he’s got up his sleeve. And he’s got two of them! So he could have twice as many tricks with that many!”

“I’m afraid to admit it, but I agree with Sarge,” Mich said. “Wash said he’s going after the Meta, but is that really all he’s planning on doing?”

“There’s always a hidden motive behind everyone’s actions,” Sarge growled. “Agent Washington is no exception.”

“He’s not really the nicest guy, is he?” Grif said. 

“He’s not at all like how I thought he’d be,” Simmons admitted.

“Like how you thought he’d be? When did you ever hear about him before?” 

_Oh, no._

“Well, Mich told me about him, a little,” Simmons said carefully. “After she came home from the project. He sounded like a great guy, but then he got... really hurt. His mind got messed up. He had to leave the ship to get medical treatment. And he went with his boyfriend, Nebraska. Where _is_ Nebraska, Mich? I thought you said the two were inseparable.”

Mich sighed painfully, looking down.

“He got killed. South shot him in the back and killed him.”

“South? What’s that stand for, South America?”

“South _Dakota_ , Grif,” Simmons told him in annoyance. 

“Oh, right. I knew that.”

“What happened to South? Is she dead, too?” Simmons asked.

“Yeah, she is. Wash killed her.”

“Really got some messed-up backstory to him, doesn’t he?” Sarge commented.

“I guess so,” Mich agreed softly.

“Is there anyone else you know of that’s dead?” Simmons questioned hesitantly. 

“Yeah, a few. North is dead--South allowed him to get killed by the Meta. Maine, I guess, because he’s the Meta now--”

“Another freelancer is the Meta?” Grif nearly shrieked. “Is _that_ why he’s so terrifying?”

“Yes, because having a ton of AI and armor enhancements doesn’t quite cut it,” Mich grumbled.

“What about Owen--I mean York. Is he okay?” 

Mich was silent, and everyone else guessed what the answer was.

“Who’s this York guy? Was he someone important?” Grif asked.

“He was my older brother,” Mich answered, almost too quietly to hear. “Wyoming got him.”

“Oh,” Grif said, sounding uncomfortable.

“You freelancers and always killin’ each other,” Sarge grumbled, shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry,” Simmons murmured, the pain evident in his voice. “I wish I could have seen him one more time. You know, to say goodbye.”

“What, did you know him too, Simmons?” Grif inquired.

“York and I were friends with his older half-sister, Carolina--”

“Simmons! You never told us you had an actual older sister!” Sarge interrupted. 

“It just... didn’t seem like important information?” Simmons said confusedly. “I didn’t really know her all that well, anyways. Mich probably knew her better than me.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died. Got thrown off a cliff by the Meta after he took her two AI, Eta and Iota. Mich saw it with her own eyes.”

“ _Goddamn_ , these freelancers are _brutal_ ,” Grif remarked. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Mich murmured under her breath.

“So you and your brother were friends with Simmons and his older sister before you became agents?” Grif asked.

“Yeah, we knew each other for a good five years before Carolina left. York left six months later. And Simmons got sent away--”

“To an _orphanage_ ," Simmons cut in. "And you thought I was put in a _boarding school!_ "

"Hey, don't bring up that again," Mich said defensively. "York and Carolina told me that's what happened, and your dipshit dad never told me otherwise."

"You really think he'd do something as nice as send me to a school far away from him?" Simmons scoffed.

"I thought he just wanted you to be as far away from him as possible, and it didn't matter where you were!"

"Oh, well, he sure got his wish," Simmons grumbled.

They were all silent for a minute, before Grif remarked, "You guys sure got a lot of family drama."

"Sounds like an old soap opera," Sarge added. "A space opera."

"Our lives are not like Star Wars," Simmons interrupted.

"Yeah, they're a whole lot more backstabbing, and less cool weapons."

"I'd do anything to have a lightsaber," Mich sighed. "Especially during the project. That could've solved a lot of problems. I could've sliced the Director in half and be done with him."

"And have him turn into Darth Maul? No way, that would be even worse!" Simmons protested.

"I'd also slice off his head to make sure he actually died," Mich amended.

"That's the kind of talk I like to hear--a lot more effective killing, and a lot less vengeful cyborgs," Sarge cheered.

"Thanks a lot, sir," Simmons sighed mournfully.

\- - - - - - - -

As the sun was setting, Wash pulled to the side and announced that they would be setting up camp for the night. Mich was glad, because her legs were sore from standing on the back of the warthog all day. But Wash made her help gather what little wood could be found in the area, so by the time she brought back enough to satisfy him, Mich felt like her legs were going to fall off. She flopped down on her stomach, cursing herself when she hit the ground and her armor jolted inward. She took off her helmet and threw it lazily, letting out a prolonged groan.

"Hey, are you dying over there?" Church asked, and Mich couldn't tell if her was genuinely worried or just amused. Probably the latter.

"Yes, what gave it away?" she mumbled, slowly turning her head to look over at him.

"Either the way you've been dragging your feet since you hopped off the warthog, or the way you just literally dropped to the ground like you got shot."

"Glad you noticed," she sighed, closing her eyes. She was just dozing off when someone plopped down by her legs, and she cracked an eye open to see it was Simmons. 

"It's like being on a camping trip," Simmons said, referring to their situation. "Been a while since we've had one of those, huh?"

"It really has been," Mich smiled softly.

"When was the last one? Like, soon before we enlisted, remember?"

"You caught your sweater on fire while trying to start some eggs," Mich chuckled. 

"And you used all the marshmallows to make a pentagram when there was literally a million sticks you could've used. And then you ate a bunch of them off the fucking ground!" Simmons sputtered.

"I wasn't about to waste them."

"You wasted them the moment you dumped them onto the ground!"

"And what about the time you practically destroyed your tent and sleeping bag because a snake slithered in there, and I had to give up all my stuff for you and ended up not sleeping because you had me guard the tent's entrance to make sure no other snakes came to get you?"

"Are you going to forget the time when you dropped the paddles of our tiny little canoe and we almost ended up _drowning_ because that was the moment we headed into some rapids? _Both_ paddles! I don't even know how you got a hold of mine!"

"Wow, I'm glad I was never on any of your camping trips," Grif snorted, sitting down on Simmons' other side.

"We might've met a few problems--"

"A _lot_ of problems," Simmons interjected.

"Fine, all right--there were a shitload of problems we had to deal with, but we always ended up having a good time, right, Richie?"

Mich, now realizing she was not going to fall asleep, sat up and lifted Simmons' helmet off his head, then proceeded to ruffle his curly red hair. Simmons shoved her off, his face going red, and Mich laughed. It felt so much better to be back beside Simmons--and the others Reds as well. She felt more at home with her makeshift family than she had with just Wash, Church, and Caboose. Yes, she considered the Blues her family, too, and she was happy to be around them, but Wash and his new attitude just crushed almost everything. _The only thing that'd make it better was if Tau, Tucker, Donut, and Lopez could be here. York, too. And North. And--_

"Hey Mich, you're insanely old," Church said, interrupting her woeful thoughts. "Talk more about your family drama that mirrors Star Wars and your encounters with the freelancers before everybody went crazy."

"Okay, for one thing, I'm only thirty-two--not exactly fossil-worthy."

"The only one here older than you is _Sarge_ , and that's not too good for your argument," Grif pointed out.

"Wash is older than me by less than a year, so no, Sarge is _not_ the only one older than me. It's not my fault the rest of you guys are little weeds."

" _Weeds?_ What do _weeds_ have to do with being young?" Church snorted.

"Do you want to hear about Project Freelancer or not?" Mich burst out, not really knowing the answer to his question.

"Okay, okay, fine, get on with it," Church grumbled.

"What do you want to hear first?" Mich asked.

"Go for the beginning of the project, when you first got there," Simmons suggested. Mich smiled a bit, then nodded.

"All right, well, my older brother, York, had just left for the project, and I, being the little leech I was, decided that I couldn't stay at home alone, so I went after him..."

As Mich told the group about her adventures in the project, she noticed from the corner of her eye that Wash, who was a few yards away from the fire and standing alone, was listening to her, as well. He rarely glanced away from her, and she was sure she caught an amused huff from him every once in a while. This lightened Mich's mood a bit, because she could see that there was at least a small part of her old friend still inside him.

She continued talking about Project Freelancer for well over an hour before Wash announced it was time for all of them to get some sleep. Caboose was already asleep, laying on Church's legs and practically immobilizing him. Mich tried getting a spot in the warthog, but by the time she was out of her armor and in just her black undersuit, Sarge had beaten her for the front and Grif got first dibs on the back. She ended up settling down right back where she was before, close to the fire. Simmons situated himself not too far away from Mich, while Wash stayed a distance away from the fire, keeping watch. Mich frowned a little as she laid down on her stomach, chin resting on her folded arms in front of her. Despite her earlier fatigue, she was quite awake now, since she was a bit riled up from all the storytelling. _I'm going to have to make sure Wash gets some sleep, too._

So, when around an hour had passed, and Mich had seen Wash nearly drop off multiple times, she got up from the ground and made her way over to him. She tapped his helmet lightly, which jerked him out of another light doze.

"Hey, you're not much of a look-out if you're sleeping," she spoke softly.

"Come on, let me take your place."

"And have _you_ keep watch instead?" Wash asked skeptically. Despite being half-asleep, he still had his doubts about her clearly in-check.

"Yes, it'll be fine," she insisted. "You're practically asleep already. Go to sleep."

"No."

"Fine, I'll just sit here and talk to you to keep you awake," Mich smiled, sitting down beside him. Wash looked at her for a long moment, and then heaved a long sigh.

"All right, you win," he murmured, hauling himself to his feet.

"That's a good little catboy," Mich cooed, and Wash froze.

"Please don't tell me you still remember that."

"Of course I do."

" _Don't_ say that around any of the others," he whispered harshly, a warning finger pointed at her.

"Only if you go to bed," Mich replied stubbornly.

"And never call me that ever again."

"We'll see. Now _go_."

Wash moved quietly over to the fire, positioning himself a bit farther away than Simmons, Church, and Caboose were, but still close enough to feel its heat. Mich smiled gently, glad she was able to convince him to go to sleep. If she were to be honest, she wouldn't have thought that she could, especially so easily. I guess whipping out the old nicknames really does the trick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to add a chapter every Saturday night, since that is when I return from my grandparents' place and that is where I get the most work done. Hopefully updates will be regular, but due to my upcoming move, I will stop posting updates for a long time. Idk how long it will take until we get internet up and running at our new place (it doesn't even have a house--we're going to be sleeping in tents or campers :/ ) but it will probably be a while. If I still go to my grandparents' after the move, I will do my best to sneak onto the internet and upload a chapter, but I might not be able to access internet long enough to be able to do that. I'm not too excited about this. I'm really sorry guys.


	6. Chapter 6

Mich somehow survived the all-night watch without caffeine, but as soon as the sun started coming up, she immediately stirred the fire and began brewing up a few cups for herself. She felt lucky that Grif hadn't found her secret stash in the warthog that she had been snitching along this entire time. And Simmons would be quite irritated if he knew that she had made her secret stash out of his own coffee reserve from Blood Gulch. The blame had previously been placed on Grif, but Simmons had strongly suspected Mich had been the one to actually steal it. He was right, but Mich wasn't about to admit it.

By the time the others began waking up, Mich had drank multiple cups of coffee and was feeling quite hyper. 

"Please tell me you have not been drinking coffee since the moment you woke up," Church groaned as he watched her sitting on the ground, rapidly bouncing one of her legs. Both Red Team and Blue Team, as well as Wash, were quite familiar with her coffee-drinking sprees.

"Actually, I never went to sleep, so no," Mich smiled innocently.

"You've been drinking coffee _all night?_ "

"Again, no--just since the sun started coming up."

"Mich, exactly how many cups of coffee have you drank today?" Wash asked, sounding both annoyed and worried.

"Uhh... I lost count after, like, the third one," Mich answered slowly, struggling to remember.

"At least _three?_ In, what, an hour and a half?" Church exclaimed.

"Probably more like five."

" _Five?!_ "

"Where did you even _get_ the coffee?" Wash asked, flabbergasted. 

"Oh, you know, my secret stash."

"Your _secret stash?_ "

"Yeah, I've got a secret stash of coffee I put in the warthog. It will last a normal person a week--me about a day or two."

"Can you at least share?" Church requested.

"No can do, buddy. This is _my_ coffee," Mich smirked. "Also, you didn't say 'please'."

"For the love of--" Church broke off, sighing heavily. "Could I _please_ have a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, yes, sure," Mich nodded, getting up to go retrieve another cup from the warthog. "Anyone else want any?"

"You mean anyone else want any of _my_ coffee?" Simmons said gruffly, walking up.

"What do you mean, yours? This is mine," Mich insisted, even though she knew she was caught.  
  
"It was mine first! You took it from _my_ supply!" Simmons fumed. "I _knew_ Grif didn't take it!"

"Thanks for your support," Grif put in dully.

"And now you're just _handing_ it out to everyone," the maroon soldier continued, waving a hand at the cup Church had taken from Mich and used to pour a cup for himself.

"What else are we gonna do with it? Feed it to the nonexistent rabbits?" Mich protested. "You can have some too, you know."

Simmons just grumbled, swiping a cup from her and getting himself some coffee. Once he finished, Mich took back the coffee, pouring some for Wash. He had been just as addicted to it as she was back in the day--she was confident that part of him hadn't changed. She headed over to where he had wandered off to, holding the cup up to him.

"I don't have any sugar or creamer, so I couldn't make it how you liked it," Mich told him apologetically.

"I drink it black nowadays, but thank you for the thought," Wash nodded, sounding genuinely appreciative. He hesitated before taking off his helmet and taking the coffee. Mich realized this was the first time she had seen his face since they had reunited, and she was a little shocked at how worn-down he appeared. A decade had past since she had last seen his face, but it looked like twice that amount of time had come and gone. All his new scars--yes, he had gained more than a few during the project, but his face was now littered with new scars, some of them still fresh and angrily red. His blue eyes, once bright and innocent, were now dull and tired. His blonde hair still had a little spike to it, but it wasn't nearly as fluffy as it used to be. His freckles were all still there, but even they had faded a bit. He looked like he had watched the world be destroyed and was the last man standing. In a way, that was what had happened.

Fingers were snapped in her face, and Mich blinked, shaking her head and glancing around.

"You looked a bit more lost than usual," Wash said, and Mich gave him a half-hearted glare. He smirked slightly, then asked, "Was there a reason you were spaced out, or was it just one of your moments?"

"Just thinking about how different things are," Mich said softly. 

"I know it's tough to return to this sort of life after going back to normal for so long," he said understandingly. "Nothing is the same anymore."

She was silent for a minute, before saying hesitantly, "Wash? Can I ask you something?"

He furrowed his brow, looking somewhat suspicious.

"I suppose so. What is it?"

"You don't have to answer, but... what did you do after you and Neb left?"

Wash froze, and Mich saw his eyes darken. She worried that she asked the question too soon, and was about to say again that he didn't have to tell her when he began speaking, his voice heavy with emotion.

"We were more _sent_ , rather than left. We went to go get treatment for me... for my mind. We were there for almost two years before I was clear to be released. After that, we just lived together. We had a normal life--or, as normal as we could get. I tried to get my head back together. Nolan helped--he helped a _lot_. Together, we were able to get a lot of what I had... lost... back."

He glanced at her, smiling a little.

"We got cats, and I named one after you, like I promised."

Mich beamed.

"Were they a little golden one like I wanted?"

"Yes. She was just as reckless and annoying as you are. She liked Nolan best, for some reason--which was pretty unfair, but our other cat liked me more, so that evens it up."

"And what was the other cat's name?"

"Loki."

"Ah, so you _do_ know some references!" Mich said triumphantly.

"What?" Wash frowned. "No, I named him after the Norse god of mischief, because he was a troublesome little thing. Not because of some ancient movie you dug up in a museum. He got along really well with Cas. It was a lot like you and York in cat-forms. Really weird how much they acted like you guys."

Mich smiled, but her mood dampened upon the mention of her brother. Wash noticed, and a sad, sympathetic look crossed his face.

"I'm really sorry about York, Mich. I can't imagine what it must be like to loose a brother. Especially one as close to you as York was."

She let out a long sigh, nodding.

"You lost a lot too, Wash. We both did."

They were both silent for a long minute before Wash inquired about what she did after leaving the project.

"Well, I searched for Carolina's body for nearly a week before I gave up. By then, the only ones around were me and Tau. We got back to civilization and earned enough money to hire a pilot to get us back to Earth. Then we found Richie, and just lived together the best we could. After a few years, Simmons enlisted in the military, and I joined him. We got put in Blood Gulch, and I'm sure you know the rest."

"Not exactly. You were never put into the system, remember? We have literally no clue what you were doing during your time there, nor what happened at Rat's Nest."

"Well, I earned a lot less scars than you did, that's for sure," Mich snorted.

"You got enough of those before and during the project to make up for that," Wash jabbed back. 

"I guess I did. We're just a couple of old battered soldiers now, huh?" she smiled a bit, patting his shoulder. He grinned a little as well.

"I suppose we are."

They finished their coffee before heading back to the Reds and Blues, with Wash announcing it was time for them to pack up and go. He was in a better mood than Mich had seen him probably since they met up again, which pleased her quite a bit. _He's still there. He's still Wash. He just needs a little help so he can show it._

"Is that all we needed to stop him from being such an ass? _Coffee?_ Why didn't you break it out sooner?" Church asked, and Mich rolled her eyes as she slipped her helmet back on.

"Because now it's all gone, and we won't be able to get anymore until we hit a grocery store or we get back to some base," Mich responded. 

"So only probably an hour's worth of a good mood? We need to get more coffee."

Mich laughed a bit, agreeing. She didn't regret drinking so much of it or sharing it, but now it was all gone, and she would have no source of caffeine for whoever knows how long. 

She hoisted herself up onto the turret, Simmons joining her.

"I'm still not happy about you taking my coffee," he muttered, and

Mich nudged him good-naturedly.

"We'll get some more as soon as we can. I promise."

"Only to fuel your addiction," Simmons huffed.

"To fuel _all_ of our addictions," Mich corrected.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right."

"I always am."

"No. No, you're really not."

\- - - - - - - -

"Tell me why _I_ couldn't have been able to be in the part of the plan where I could've helped with getting the warthog," Mich demanded for the third time already.

"I've told you--there's only three places for three people on a warthog, and if you were on there, you would've been getting in the way," Wash explained again, exasperated. "You can't drive for shit, Simmons seems to be the best with the turret, and you would distract the other two, which is why you're not in the passenger seat. Now, I'm not repeating that anymore, so shut up and be ready if we need to go in to assist them."

It had been a day since they had run out of coffee, and Wash was back in his grumpy mood. The group had travelled back to Valhalla, and were now in the process of stealing another warthog, to Simmons' dismay. The Reds were currently attempting to get the soldiers chasing them off their tail, while Mich, Wash, Church, and Caboose were on an overhanging, watching.

"And you're not saying they need assistance now?" Mich inquired, raising an eyebrow. The Reds were nowhere closer to losing their pursuer than they were ten minutes ago. Wash raised his shotgun and peered through the sights. He followed the chase for a minute before letting out an annoyed huff.

"I knew this plan wouldn't work!" he exclaimed, lowering his gun.

"We all knew this plan wouldn't work," Church said in an unsurprised way. "None of our plans ever work."

"That's why we carry guns," Caboose added.

"And why we fail at everything," Mich nodded.

"No wonder you fit in with these guys so well," Wash muttered, before continuing, more loudly and in a deep Sarge impression, "' _We can get a car, no problem! We're better with vehicles than the Blues, let us handle this!_ ' Ugh, why did I even listen to them?"

"I told you not to," Church reminded him.

"Yeah, well I stopped listening to you three bases ago," Wash admitted shamelessly.

"Well, that's not very--"

"And I _never_ started listening to _you_ ," Wash interrupted Caboose. "Mich, why didn't you say they wouldn't be able to pull this off?"

"I thought you never listened to me, either," Mich retorted. "You stopped listening to me eleven years ago."

"Oh my God, will you quit?" Church groaned. "We get it, you and Wash are both super old and have known each other since you were our age. Quit acting like an old married couple."

Wash let out a loud noise of annoyance and near-despair, while Mich just rolled her eyes.

"Aw man, that jeep has a really big gun," Caboose said, and the other three all went back to watching the chase.

"Don't get any ideas," Church warned. Wash sighed loudly.

"Well, I guess I better get down there and save them. Mich, stay here. I am really starting to hate this part of the job," Wash grumbled as he began heading down towards the Reds.

"Well, at least you're getting a lot of practice at it!" Caboose said encouragingly.

"Don't patronize me," Wash responded tiredly, before hurrying down the hill.

"You know, if we let one or two of them die, we could all probably squeeze into one car!" Church called after him. "Just saying, you should think about it."

"No," Mich said dully, hitting him with the butt of her gun.

" _Ow!_ "

"And if enough of us die, we could fit on a motorcycle!" Caboose exclaimed.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Mich put in.

"Only because you'd be one of the first to die," Church huffed.

"Because you're useless."

"I'm more useful than _you_ \--"

"All right, he's gone," Church interjected. "Caboose, Mich, you two stay here, I'll be right back."

"I love how you think you can order me around," Mich said. 

"I've been doing it for a while now, and you haven't complained."

"You're going to summon Tucker by talking like that."

"Don't make this conversation weird! God, I hate you sometimes."

"Feeling's mutual."

"Wait, you're leaving?" Caboose asked.

"Yeah, for some reason, he doesn't want me to see Tex's body," Church said, his ghostly form appearing beside his body. "I'm going to go try and find her."

"Uh--don't leave me here with your body. It stares at me. And _I don't like it_."

"You'll be _fine_ ," Church said breezily, before hurrying away. Mich and Caboose were quiet for a minute, before Caboose turned towards Church's body and hissed, " _Stop that_."

"I'm going to go after Wash and the others," Mich told Caboose, leaping off the overhang.

"What? Please don't. I'll be alone with Church's body, and it's creepy!" Caboose protested. 

"It'll be okay," Mich promised. "Church will be back in a minute. All he's gotta do is find his girlfriend's body, pay respects, and then he'll come back. I think. It'll be okay!"

"Please don't leave me here with the body."

"We'll be back in a minute!" Mich yelled, hurrying away. 

She got down to the river before she realized she hadn't paid attention to what direction Wash had gone, and she groaned, stopping. 

_It doesn't matter what direction Wash went in--just follow the sound of Grif's screaming and the gunshots._

Mich looked around slowly, trying to pinpoint the direction of the noise she needed to follow. After a few moments, she figured that the Reds were being chased on the other side of the base, and she began running in that direction.

She caught sight of them just as Grif was steering towards a rocky outcropping. _Is he gonna jump off that thing? He must be insane!_

Apparently, Grif realized it was a crazy idea at the last second, because he swerved to the side and came to a halt right at the edge.

The jeep that was chasing them continued over the outcropping, however, and Simmons started blasting at it. The warthog landed on the ground below, going up in a fiery blaze. 

Just as she was coming up on the hill they were on, a fighter plane lifted into the air, and after a few moments of silence, Grif took off in the warthog, yelling once again.

"Oh, come on!" she huffed as the plane chased the Reds. She looked over her rifle, wondering if it could do any harm to the hornet.

_It's too small, unless I got a clear shot at the motors and was able to fire at those a bunch. I would need it to stay still long enough, though..._

_If I can get the idiots to stop and give me a chance, I bet I could do it._

Mich looked back up, trying to find where Grif and the others were now. She saw them going back and forth in the same general spot, with the hornet firing huge rounds at them. It was staying still, and Mich grinned, dropping to the ground and raising her rifle. She let out a hiss of annoyance, however, when the plane began moving around, firing with smaller bullets at one lone target--Wash.

_For Christ's sake--can't he ever not go into something gun-ho?_

Wash shot at the hornet as he ran, seemingly to no avail. He appeared to be heading closer to the south side of the base, where the grav lift was.

_Stupid bitch._

Mich got up and hurried to another place closer to the plane, then resumed trying to take aim at the motors, hoping to get a clear shot. Before she could, however, a large metal box that was beside the grav lift fell, landing into the jet stream. The box went flying into the air, hitting the hornet. Alarms went off on the plane, which began flying around erratically before finally coming to an exploding crash on the ground. 

_Show-off._

Mich headed back towards the base, where everyone seemed to be accumulating.

"And where the _hell_ did Mich run off to?" Wash was shouting as she got to the bottom of the hill.

"Uh, right there," Grif, who was still in the now-tattered jeep, pointed her out.

"Yeah, I'm here. I didn't miss the party, did I?" she joked as she came to a stop beside the other Reds.

"What do you not understand about staying put like I told you to?" Wash asked fiercely.

"I wanted to help, okay? I would've gotten to do it, too, if your stupid ass hadn't gotten to it first," she grumbled.

"I told you to stay with the Blues! Did you leave before or after Church went to go look for Tex's body?"

"After, but what's it matter? We're all here, aren't we?"

"You know what--I don't have time for your shit. We need to break into the Freelancer Command Facility, which is an underground complex of secure bunkers and fortified chambers. I need suggestions on how to do so. Let's put our heads together and see if we can figure out a way we can get in there."

"Ah, yes, breaking into the main complex--I've been wanting to do this for years," Mich grinned.

"We're not there to destroy the place--we need to unlock the Alpha," Wash informed.

"The what?" Simmons asked.

"It's the main AI from Project Freelancer," Church explained. "You know all the AI we've been dealing with over the years? It's where they were all copied from originally."

 _But Church is the Alpha--Wash knows that. Why is he saying we're going to the complex for Alpha when he's_ right here _? What is he actually after?_

"You can't copy an AI," Simmons said quizzically.

"Uh, the main one? _Fuck that_ ," Grif snorted. "Those things have caused all of our problems. Why would we go looking for the main boss one?"

"That's a good question. Agent Washington? Do you want to answer this one?" Church said pointedly, looking over at Wash.

"You'll understand everything soon enough," Wash said vaguely.

"Oh, that's really encouraging," Mich said sarcastically.

"We're not going," Simmons announced.

"What? You have to go," Wash protested.

"Not really."

"We can't infiltrate with just four people."

"Love how you looped me in with you guys," Mich huffed. "What if I don't _want_ to go with you?"

"You're coming. That's an order," Wash said firmly.

"Order? You're not our commanding officer," Grif sassed. "We don't even know what rank you are!"

"I'm a freelancer!"

"Not a rank, dude."

"The other freelancers never gave orders. They just traded favors," Simmons informed.

"Okay, then let's bargain," Wash said. "What do you want?"

Sarge, Grif, Simmons, and Mich all turned towards each other and began whispering.

"Three words, guys: gold-plated vagina," Grif said.

"Gold-plated?" Sarge echoed, while Mich hissed, "No, let's go for some really good weapon--if we wanted something gold-plated, then at least get a dick that we can _use_."

"Shut up, that's gross!" Simmons huffed.

"Lasers," Sarge put in. "Robots and lasers. Lasers and robots."

"Lasers are cool--how about upgrades for Lopez so he can shoot lasers?" Mich asked.

"Nah, milkshakes," Grif dismissed.

"All right, we talked about it, and we figured out what we want," Sarge declared as they all turned back to Wash. 

"Please say gold-plated dick," Grif breathed, and Simmons elbowed him harshly while emitting a noise of disgust.

"All right, let's hear it," Wash said, sounding a bit worried.

"We want you to demote Grif," Sarge told him.

"Done," Wash said in a relieved way.

" _What?_ " Grif exclaimed.

"Another wasted opportunity," Simmons sighed.

"Congratulations, you are now Private Grif again."

"Got anything lower?" Sarge asked.

"Private... Junior Grif?"

"I was thinking something with an insulting adjective or maybe a demeaning adverb."

"How about Minor Junior Private Grif, Negative First Class?"

"Hehe, I like the way you think," Sarge chuckled.

"You realize you doomed us a certain death just so you can insult me, right?" Grif asked dully.

"Hey, if we do get killed, at least we'll go out on a high note. Well, everybody but you. But that's to be expected--you haven't had a high note in five years! And why break the goddamn streak?"

"We still need to find out how we're getting in there," Wash told them.

"Mister Washington?" Caboose asked, suddenly appearing at the entrance of the base. Everyone turned to look at him.

"I have an idea," Caboose stated.

"I really shouldn't even bother asking, should I?" Wash asked Church.

"I don't know... Caboose? An idea? I think he's bluffing."

"Give him a chance!" Mich protested.

"No, it's a really good idea," Caboose insisted. "We drive there."

"Yeah, he was bluffing," Church sighed.

"We're going to Freelancer City, right? The place where freelancers are from! And this is a freelancer car! If they think we are freelancers, because we are in their car, they will just let us right in!"

"But you don't _look_ like freelancers. Or recovery agents," Wash pointed out.

"They can't see inside of a tank," Caboose said after a moment.  
Church and Wash glanced at each other.

"I told you to give him a chance," Mich said smugly, grinning.

"Shut up," the two said simultaneously.

"Get the tank brought over here," Wash ordered to no one in particular, which caused Mich and Caboose to both shout, "I'll do it!"

"Mich, you are _not_ driving _anything_ , much less a damn tank," Wash huffed. "And Caboose-- _can_ Caboose drive a tank?"

"Surprisingly, yes, but you have to make sure he doesn't shoot anyone," Church told him.

Wash considered this, then ordered for Church to keep an eye on Caboose as he brought the tank over. Church was about to protest, but Mich shoved him after Caboose, who was already running over to the tank. Wash went to go prep one of the warthogs, and Mich hurried after him.

"Hey, what's this about going after Alpha? We both know he's right here."

Wash turned quickly to her and making a shushing gesture.

"We're not going after the Alpha," he whispered.

"Obviously, but what _are_ we going after? I don't think you'd break into the freelancer headquarters just for fun. You don't seem the type. Sarge, yes. Me, maybe. But you? No."

"You would break into it for fun. But I'm not. You remember when Church said that Delta told him 'memory is the key'?"

"Well yeah, that's kind of hard to forget. Did you figure out what it means?"

"Yes, I did."

There was a pause, then Mich prompted, "So? What's it mean?"

"You know how each AI fragment had a different trait?" Wash asked after a moment.

"Of course I do. I had curiosity stuck in my head for over ten years."

"Well, there was a memory AI."

"How is memory a personality trait?"

"It isn't, and that's not the point--the point is that Epsilon is the memory AI."

"Memory is the key. _Epsilon_ is the key," Mich breathed. 

"Yes, that's what I was thinking," Wash nodded.

"I knew they never destroyed him," Mich said.

"You did?"

"Just like you said, Wash--AI are too expensive to just destroy. The Director didn't destroy Epsilon, even after what he did to you, even though he said he did. Lying little bastard."

"So you based that theory on your hatred for him?"

"Pretty much. Tau said it made sense, so that added to it."

"Either way, you're right. And now we have to go get him."

"What is Epsilon the key to, though? Why go after him at all?" Mich asked.

"He's the key to everything. The project, the Director, _us_ \-- _everything_. You can't tell me that being able to learn _everything_ about all of this doesn't make you excited, or at least interested."

Wash was right--Mich _did_ want to know everything. Why the Director did what he did, why start the project at all. Why he ruined so many peoples' lives. _Why he's such a stupid fucking douche._

"And you're going to be sharing the information within Pandora's box? At least with me?" Mich questioned.  
  
"If we get it, then yes, you can be let in on the answers of everything," Wash answered. "But you have to listen and follow along with whatever I tell you to do--"

"Yes, yes, I promise, I'll do what you say," Mich promised hastily.

"I mean it. No goofing off, no messing around, no getting into trouble or getting yourself killed."

"I know, I get it! Let's just get the show on the road, asshole."

"All right then, idiot. Let's go."


End file.
